


Big Sky Theory

by sullacat



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boyfriends, H/C bingo, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, star trek big bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-25
Updated: 2011-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:03:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sullacat/pseuds/sullacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk is a young, brash pilot who has a bright future with Starfleet Airlines. Leonard McCoy is the cranky airport gate agent everyone loves to hate.  A chance encounter in the airline’s break room leads to an unlikely friendship and romance.</p><p>But the path of true love never runs smooth. Leonard brings baggage with him that Jim isn’t used to dealing with, and dating a pilot presents its own difficulties. Are Jim and Leonard just too different to make a relationship work?</p><p>A year in the life of pilot Jim and gate agent Bones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Sky Theory

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of these people. No infringement intended. I made up a lot of things in this story, particularly about San Francisco's airport and the conversations between air traffic control towers and the cockpit. The humble origins of this story were a postage stamp bonus for for the prompts 'undeserved reputation, panic attacks, homesickness, and hostile climate. It took on a life of its own after that.
> 
> My most eternal thanks to Kinderjedi and Winterover who expertly beta-ed for me. I also want to thank my writers' group who held my hand as they walked/talked me through this story. Their encouragement, prodding, and cheerleading meant more to me than I can say. ♥!!!
> 
> I could not have lucked out more with my lovely artist Summerslaughter ([click here for art](http://summerslaughter.livejournal.com/88029.html)) and amazing mixer Lauriegilbert ([click here for mix](http://lauriegilbert.livejournal.com/372880.html)). I am so chuffed beyond words at what they created for my fic. I implore you to go over to their journals and leave them lots of love.

> In aviation, the Big Sky Theory is that two randomly flying bodies are very unlikely to collide, as the three dimensional space is so large relative to the bodies. ...It does not apply (or applies less) when aircraft are flying along specific narrow routes, such as an airport traffic pattern or jet airway. (Wikipedia)

 

  


 

"Bay Approach, Starfleet 550 at seven five hundred, requesting clearance to land."

"Starfleet 550 - descend to four zero hundred, continue heading one four zero."

"Roger that, Bay approach. Descending to four zero hundred, proceeding to C15. Thank you for all your assistance this evening."

"Starfleet 550, you are clear to land. Proceed to Gate C16. Welcome to San Francisco, Captain Kirk."

 

 _"We have arrived in San Francisco, the weather a cool sixty degrees. Local time is eight forty-five p.m. Some of you will be continuing on to Seattle with Captain Robau. I recommend you stay on board and not leave the plane, as that flight will be departing on time. The rest of us will be exiting as soon as we proceed to our gate._

 _Those of you with cell phones and other electronic devices can turn them on now. On behalf of Starfleet Airlines, I'd like to thank you for flying with us today, and wish you a good evening."_

 

It wasn't Jim Kirk's first time visiting the Starfleet Airlines crew lounge at San Francisco International Airport, but he couldn't remember it ever being this noisy or raucous. A small area tucked in the back of the terminal, it had a couple comfortable-looking sofas, some computers over against the wall, and a snack machine in the corner.

Walking inside, he saw that most of the attention centered around the television set in the corner. Jim had an hour to kill before his flight home and the sofa on the far side of the lounge called out his name, but curiosity won out – he wanted to know what was going on over there.

Baseball, apparently. It wasn't his sport of choice, but his mom had been a fan, and Jim had attended a few White Sox games as a kid, and enjoyed them enough to have kept that beat-up Sox cap around, year after year. The couch and chairs in the small lounge were full, mostly guys but a couple women as well, standing and talking and cheering as the inning ended and the Giants came up to bat.

"One inning left. Atlanta's going down," someone called out to the television.

"Don't get too excited just yet, Scott," a dark-haired man answered, tossing a handful of peanuts into his mouth. "Normand's got a hell of an arm on him this season."

Sure enough, the next batter struck out rather quickly. A peanut shell flew at the dark-haired man, still bitching about the ball being low. "Shut up, I can't hear the game," that guy called out in a grumpy voice, eyes focused on the screen as the others groused and moaned about the bad call.

One of the baggage agents looked down at his watch. "Break’s over, gotta run." Two guys got up and left the sofa, leaving Jim a space to sit closer to the television. He took their place next to the angry peanut man, a gate agent, Jim guessed, judging from his uniform - a blue Starfleet polo shirt and some khakis.

"Careful, Kirk, you're in the line of fire now," one of the cabin crew told him.

"Always did like to be where the action was," Jim joked, as more peanut shells were lobbed at the triumphant Braves fan when the Giants' batter struck out. "Take it you don't like San Francisco?"

"Not when they're playing my team, I don't. You got a problem with that?"

Shit. "Guess not," he replied, a little surprised. Most gate agents were deferential to pilots, but this guy didn't seem to care anything about that. "I'm a White Sox fan myself."

"Jesus." The Braves guy shook his head, eyes still glued to the television. "They're doing worse than we are this season," he added, turning to look at Jim for the first time, eyes dark and curious.

"Sounds about right," Jim replied, recalling that they'd been eliminated pretty quick from postseason play last year. "Jim Kirk," he said, holding out his hand.

The man gave Jim an appraising look before taking that hand. "Leonard McCoy."

Soon the room was filled with cheers, this time for the home team. McCoy winced as the inning ended, three up and three down, the game over. "Shit." The area cleared quickly as several people headed out. "Well, I'm done for the night," McCoy said. "Just wanted to see the end of the game before I left. You?" he asked, offering Jim some of his peanuts.

"Got a few more minutes before I head out," Jim replied, taking a few peanuts from the bag with one hand and pulling out his iPhone to check his e-mail with the other.

"You new to SFO?" McCoy asked, looking down at Jim's luggage, a simple overnight bag with its crew tags.

"A couple weeks now on a regular basis. Gonna be my home base for the time being." Jim looked around. "Seems like a nice enough place." There were other airports that ranked a lot further down on Jim's list - and who didn't like San Francisco?

"Yeah." Leonard leaned down, picked up a few peanut shells off the ground. "Well, see you later," he said, tossing them in the trash as he headed out the door.

Jim waited until everyone was gone before stretching out on the sofa. Closing his eyes, he thought about that grumpy guy one more time, chuckling at how pissed off he'd been during the game. _It takes all kinds_ , he mused sleepily before drifting off for a quick nap.

 

Jim heard his watch alarm go off and jolted awake. He'd dozed off on the sofa, catching twenty precious minutes of sleep after McCoy left. Time to catch his flight home - thankfully, one he didn't have to pilot himself. Hikaru Sulu was sitting in the captain's chair this flight, for which Jim was grateful, a quick shuttle from SFO to Sacramento. Etiquette and company policy demanded that any off-duty employee requesting the jumpseat formally ask the captain for permission to tag along, and knowing that Hikaru worked this route routinely meant that Jim more often than not had an easy ride home with a friend.

The passenger cabin was surprisingly full, so Jim took a seat in the extra chair of the cockpit cabin, where an off-duty pilot could sometimes find a ride to another airport - 'deadheading', as the practice was known.

He'd just settled in, making small talk with the first officer, Bill McKenna, when Hikaru walked by with a can of soda. "Hey, lean over," he told Jim, brushing something small off Jim's hair, examining it as it fell to the ground. "What the hell?"

Jim laughed. "Peanut shell," he said as McKenna began going through their pre-flight checklist. "Some of the baggage guys were watching baseball with a gate agent. Things got rough. Peanuts were thrown."

Sulu snorted, glancing at Bill. "Sounds like McCoy."

"Yeah, I think that's it. You know him?" Jim asked, glancing out of the cockpit door and watching the flight attendants get all the passengers on the small shuttle settled, closing the overhead compartments and making sure everyone was buckled in.

"He's a legend around Terminal Four," Sulu chuckled. "One of the supervisors, mostly nights, I think. Works with the gate agents and check-in crew. Acts like he owns the damn place, though, likes to get under Spock's skin."

"Spock?"

"Station Director." Jim recalled seeing him - a dark, serious looking man, the one in charge of terminal security. Sulu finished reviewing his instruments, he and McKenna double checking each other's lists. "The two of them get into it a lot."

"Well, a lot of people don't like McCoy." McKenna continued, matter-of-factly. "He's not easy to get to know."

Given the first impression the man had made on him, that didn't exactly surprise Jim. "Do _you?_ " he asked Hikaru.

Sulu shrugged. "I don't know him that well, but he seems to try hard to be an asshole to everyone. He yells a lot," he added. "Not the friendliest guy you ever met. No idea why they have him working with the public." Just then, the cabin attendant entered the cockpit and told them the cabins were ready.

Jim looked down at the cockpit instruments, dozens of switches and buttons and meters and dials, the shuttle's 717 body type smaller and a little more simplified than the 737 that he was flying now. Hikaru turned on the in-cabin intercom and began speaking. "Welcome aboard Starfleet Airlines. I'm Captain Hikaru Sulu, and I've got co-pilot Bill McKenna with me tonight. It should take us fifty minutes to get to Sacramento, so at this time please turn off any electronic device with an on/off switch and prepare for take-off."

The tower radioed for them to push back away from the terminal gate. Sulu and the air traffic controllers talked back and forth, and soon they began the short taxi toward their runway. This time of night, the runways were less crowded, so it didn't take long before they were lifting off, _airborne_ , that familiar tingle Jim always got when he left the ground. Closing his eyes, he listened to the men talking quietly amongst themselves as he drifted off into a restless nap.

 

Airports were the same all over, and the people who wander through them never changed. Perhaps only the truly frequent flier could understand the way they were all cut from the same cloth. Cheesy chain restaurants, over-priced novelty gift shops and duty-free liquor stores, full of tourists rolling around over-sized luggage for their weekend in Vegas, looking anxious and out of place as they searched for familiar comforts of Starbucks and McDonald's. The airport bar was full at any hour of the day, businessmen on layovers or terrified passengers seeking liquid Valium.

Even the employees were the same, Jim thought as he watched them one evening, particularly in his airline. His fellow captains had a habit of wearing their black uniform hats and aviator sunglasses inside, such a cliché, with their standard Starfleet-issued gold-colored neckties and white uniform shirts, pulling their black rolling luggage behind them. Like a little cult. Jim grinned, waving at one of the other crews as they strode past him.

The airport employees working at the ticket counter and the gates all had a familiar look as well. In each city Jim flew into he found himself watching them while he waited to board his plane, moving quickly in their standard polo shirt uniforms in blue or red, with khaki trousers. There seemed to be an endless cycle of employees staring at computer screens, repeating the same instructions to each passenger in line like robots, trying to make them understand that possessing a ticket was not the same as checking in, and no, there were no seats available for this flight, but they would be placed on stand-by for the next flight, thank you for flying with us. It was high drama at the gates every day, with the crying babies and confused old people, every electrical outlet in use, laptops and iPads and phones being charged for their long flights to Miami and Los Angeles.

Jim could understand why the gate agents sometimes came off as unfriendly, particularly if they were as brusque as Leonard McCoy appeared to be.

If he had to deal with that every day, he might be grouchy too.

 

Jim was back at SFO four days later, just in from Chicago, when he spotted McCoy sitting at a table in the small airport Chili's having some lunch and watching another baseball game on their big screen.

"You guys finally winning?" Jim asked, standing off to the side, looking up at the television, Braves vs. Dodgers.

McCoy turned and glared at Jim, as if it took him a moment to remember where he'd seen him last. "Finally," McCoy said. "About damn time. We lost last night, too."

"Tough luck," Jim said with a mock sadness, enjoying playing McCoy's game back at him. "Tell you what, I'll buy you a beer if your team wins."

For his part, McCoy seemed to be playing along. "A beer?" he repeated, looking vaguely shocked. "Can't drink here - not looked upon kindly, even when we're off the clock." The commercials ended and the announcers were back on the screen. "I'll take a Cherry Coke, though," he replied, pointing at one of the chairs at his table, indicating that Jim could join him.

Jim laughed and sat down. "An honorable wager. You're on." A young waitress stopped at their table, her green uniform full of those silly buttons and flair, and took Jim's order for a lemonade.

"I don't recall seeing you around much before," Leonard told him, offering Jim some of the fries from his burger plate.

"Used to do the Chicago - East Coast - Florida run," Jim replied, taking one, dipping it in Leonard's ketchup and popping it in his mouth. "Smaller shuttles, primarily."

"Better hours with shuttles," Leonard noted, finishing his burger. "Why the change? You move out here?"

"Better hours but less money. And," he hesitated a moment. "My mom passed away a few months ago." It was still hard to believe that she was gone. So much left unsaid between them.

Leonard's face dropped immediately. "Damn, Captain. Sorry 'bout that."

"Thanks... and it’s Jim," he added with a little smile. "Anyway, we sold the family place in Iowa, and I decided it was time for a change. Got the chance to move up to the bigger planes, so I took it." Bigger planes meant bigger money, more prestige, if crappier hours. "My brother lives here in California, so I thought it would be nice to be closer to him and his family."

"Where at?" Leonard asked before finishing his drink.

"Down in Folsom. He works for the great and mighty Intel," Jim made a face, and grinned when Leonard laughed at that. "I'm crashing with him for a bit, when I'm here, until I find a place, or decide what I want to do."

"So, you been jumping to Sacramento?"

"Yeah, then drive over to Sam's place. Hell of a lot easier commute than Chicago," Jim shook his head. "Right now, I've got a four-five on – three off schedule, not too bad. Don't mess up his family's life too much."

McCoy whistled low. "Still a lot of hours in the air." McCoy looked like he was about to ad something else when he looked down at his watch. "Gotta run," he said, reaching for his wallet, waving the waitress over to them. He paid for his meal, and gave her a few extra dollars. "That's for his drink," he said, wiping his mouth on his napkin.

"Hey, thanks," Jim said, genuinely surprised. "Next time, it's on me."

McCoy nodded back at him. "Sounds like a plan. You be careful up there, Captain," he said, giving Jim a little smile, and all of a sudden, Jim was struck with how handsome the guy could be when he wasn't yelling all the time.

Seeing as he had some time, Jim stayed and watched the end of the game, and felt a little sad when the Braves couldn't pull it out and lost by three.

 

During the next couple of weeks, whenever he was at the airport Jim asked around the terminal about McCoy, and Sulu's generalization of 'He's an asshole' seemed to be the universal consensus. Chekov just shook his head and walked away when Jim asked, muttering something about McCoy treating the cabin crew like they were children. Uhura let Jim buy her some fried rice at the food court and in return told him a story about McCoy and Spock getting into it over one of the baggage guys.

"McCoy overheard him bragging to his friends about his new laptop, how he took it out of some luggage. McCoy turned him in to the airport head honchos."

"But that's a good thing, right?" Jim asked, confused.

"Oh yeah, the guy got fired," she said, "he was in the wrong, but - I don't know." She shook her head, picking up the rest of her trash and putting it on her tray. "Something about the way it all went down. It was as if McCoy didn't trust Spock to handle it, so he went above his head, straight to Spock's supervisor. Spock's not the friendliest sort either, if you don't know him, but a lot of his staff took it as a personal affront."

Jim wasn't sure what to say about that. "Guess that didn't make him any friends."

"McCoy just rubs people the wrong way and honestly? I think he likes it. I mean, I don't let him bother me, but... I think it’s some defense mechanism. Or maybe he's just laughing at all of us." She chuckled as they got up, and headed back toward the terminal. "I heard he gets along with Mr. Scott down in Mechanics, but they never have to see each other. It’s the rest of us who bear the brunt of his displeasure."

That just wasn't the same guy that Jim saw. Granted, he only ran into the man once or twice a week when he was flying or out, if they happened to be on duty at the same time, but...

Leonard McCoy seemed to be this enigma that Jim hadn't figured out, and it killed him to not understand.

 

Jim was heading out for a four-day trip, and heard McCoy's booming voice over the intercom as he walked past one of the gates, his gruff tone imparting the importance of his message. "Flight 65 is on the ground and will be at the gate soon." Pulling his carry-on behind him, Jim walked up to say hello, smirking as McCoy kept talking, that endless speech he gave several times a shift. "Give us a few minutes to clean the plane, and we will be begin pre-boarding those who need assistance, families with small children, and members of the military in uniform. Thank you." Watching Jim approach, he nodded. "Hello, Jim."

"Hiya." Jim grinned. "Everything going okay?"

"Of course not." McCoy rolled his eyes. "Everyone has either never been on a plane before, or flies all the time and naturally knows more than I do." He looked at Jim's bag. "Where you headed today?"

"Phoenix then Dallas, then back to Phoenix and Los Angeles."

Leonard whistled. "Long day."

"Yeah, but clear skies." Jim noticed Gary, his co-pilot for the flight walk by and wave at him. "Time to go. Take care," he said, reaching out his hand toward McCoy, who looked at it for a moment.

"You too, Captain," he murmured slowly, taking it. "Be safe up there."

 

The first three days of Jim's trip went okay; nothing extraordinary, everything predictable. But the fourth day... that day started bad, and just got worse.

The Memphis hotel the crew had bedded down in was cheap enough, but noise from the airport next door kept Jim up all night. The airport shuttle was late, throwing off everyone's schedules as they all scrambled to get to their terminals. Being late set everyone on edge, and no one seemed in good spirits for that first flight of the day.

To add insult to injury, Jim lost his wallet somewhere in this ruckus. Tired as he was, he spent all his limited free time between flights canceling his credit cards, calling Sam to get some cash from his bank ready for him for the next day, and borrowing some money from one of the other guys so he could eat.

His final flight into San Francisco was delayed, arriving nearly an hour late, too late to catch the last shuttle to Sacramento for the night. He had his airport identification card, but no driver's license or any other ID to rent a car, even if he wanted to pay for one. Looking at the departures board, he located the first shuttle bound for Sacramento - it was leaving early in the morning, so Jim headed toward the crew lounge to try and catch some rest, find a place to end this terrible day.

Officially the pilots weren’t supposed to sleep in the lounge, but sure enough, he uncovered a pillow and blanket tucked away in one of the cabinets, just like there was in every crew lounge in every airport across the country. Right or wrong, pilots did what they had to do, even if it meant a fitful night's rest in a public location.

At least here, Jim felt lucky. It was well after ten at night, mostly empty in the lounge, and best of all, the couch was unoccupied.

It wasn't the most comfortable place Jim had ever slept, but he'd been in worse lounges (Little Rock; that place was rough) and he'd just managed to find a position where his neck wasn't crooked when he heard "Jim?"

Rolling over, he opened his eyes to see McCoy standing there. "Hey," he said, making out his figure in the dim light.

"What happened, you miss the nine forty-five?"

"Yeah," Jim said, sitting up, rubbing his neck, snorting. "What _didn't_ happen today..." McCoy was giving him a strange look, so he continued. "Just gonna hang out here until morning, see if I can catch a non-rev back to Sacramento."

McCoy was watching him, frowning. "No."

"No?"

"No, that's not-" McCoy sighed. "C'mon. I know a place where you can stay." Jim was exhausted, but there was something solid about McCoy that he trusted, so Jim quietly gathered his things and followed McCoy out of the airport, waving at some of the late shift people he'd come to know.

For a moment he wondered if McCoy was taking him to his place, if McCoy thought something might happen. Jim was as interested in sex as the next guy, but by and large he liked to get to know someone a little bit first.

Or at the very least be _asked_ if it was what he wanted.

Yet Jim didn't say anything until he hopped into McCoy's pick-up truck and they hit the highway. "Where we going?"

"A friend's place. He runs a private crashpad for friends, pilots."

Oh. "I don't have any money. Lost my wallet," said Jim, looking out the window.

"Damn, you did have a shitty day," Leonard told him. "Don't worry about it."

"Think there'll be space? At this late notice?"

McCoy snorted. "He'll give you a room." He pulled out his phone, scrolled down and punched a button. "Hey. Need a favor, can a friend of mine stay there?" McCoy looked over at Jim and chuckled. "Yeah, he's okay." Another pause. "Thanks. About five minutes away. See ya."

"Friend of yours?" Jim asked, curious. Leonard McCoy didn't seem the type to engender deep friendships.

"Yep," McCoy said, as they exited the highway a few miles down and drove into a decent looking neighborhood.

"Nice," Jim said as they turned onto a tree-lined street, pulling into a two-story townhouse on the end. "Your friend's got a sweet place here."

"Yep," McCoy repeated, turning off the engine. The front door opened and a man walked out. Jim thought he was moving slow, but it wasn't until he got closer that Jim noticed he was using a cane. McCoy got out of the car, so Jim followed suit and walked toward him. "Evening, Chris."

"Len." They looked at each other and for a moment Jim thought that they weren't going to say anything else until the man walked toward Jim. "Hi there. Christopher Pike," he said to Jim, holding out his hand.

"Jim Kirk," Jim said quickly, walking to Christopher so he wouldn't have to go as far, taking his hand. Standing next to him, Jim estimated him to be mid-forties, handsome, the kind of guy that just got better looking with time. "Thanks for this, I really appreciate it."

"Jim here missed his flight and lost his wallet," Leonard explained, a wry smirk on his face. "I was hoping you could put him up for the night."

Christoper looked at him, his crumpled uniform, and Jim felt like he was being examined. "Starfleet, eh?" He chuckled low and glanced back at Leonard. "No problem, we'll get him back to the airport in the morning."

Jim exhaled softly, feeling the weight of the day lift off of him. "I appreciate it," he told him, meaning it. No man liked to have other people solve their problems for them, but today felt like it had been a week long and Jim was more tired and on edge than he'd been in a very long time.

"Anything for a friend of Leonard's." Christopher turned back to Leonard. "You wanna cup of coffee or anything before you go?"

"I need to be going, but thanks, again." There was another of those glances, and Jim knew for sure that something was going on between them. "Night, Chris. Night, Jim. Good luck getting home tomorrow," he added as he turned and walked toward his truck.

"Hey," Jim said, following McCoy a few steps until he caught up. "I really appreciate this." He looked Leonard up and down, in the moonlight, and wondered at this man standing before him, who he really was. Certainly not the man others thought they knew. "Guess I heard wrong about you."

Leonard laughed at him. "No, you heard right," he said, turning toward his truck. "Oh hey," he added, pulling out his wallet. He handed Jim a twenty dollar bill and two fives. "To get you back to the airport tomorrow, until you get to your bank."

Jim stared at that for a moment, not wanting to take it. But in the end Jim swallowed his pride and accepted it. "Thanks, again," he murmured, feeling humble and lucky as hell to have run into Leonard tonight. "I mean... you're a really good guy, Leonard McCoy."

That made Leonard laugh. "Well shit, don't tell anyone. I've got a reputation as a mean son of a bitch that I’d like to keep."

Jim grinned at that, then smiled harder as Leonard laughed as well. "Look," Jim started, "gimme your number. When I get back, I'm gonna buy you that drink, no matter who won."

McCoy looked at him for a moment, then recited his number, watching as Jim programmed them into his phone. "Good luck getting home."

"You too... thanks," Jim said, eyes following Leonard as he climbed into his truck and pulled out of the driveway, heading off down the road.

Once Leonard was gone, Jim followed Chris inside, his eyes taking in the laid-back California décor, an elegant sort of bachelor pad. "You look exhausted, kid, so I'll give you the quick tour. Kitchen's over there," he pointed out down the hall. "Feel free to raid it if you're hungry." They walked through the great room, where Jim saw a flat-screen television mounted to the wall, a Playstation and some games tucked into the console underneath. "Bathroom over here," Pike continued as they walked down another hallway. "Two bedrooms down there. Tony is asleep in this one," he said, pointing at a closed door, "so why don't you take this room." Pike turned on the light and Jim saw two twin beds, small but comfortable looking.

Most crashpads were like dorms, with bunk beds and bodies strewn everywhere. Compared to that, this looked like heaven. "Its perfect," Jim said, tossing his bag on the nearest bed.

"You must be tired, kid," Pike chuckled, and sat down on the other bed. "So," he began, "how do you know Leonard?" Pike asked.

"Just met him, really," Jim said, sitting down on the edge. "Watched a baseball game with him at work one evening. Seems like a nice guy."

"Man's a menace about those Braves," Pike sighed. "Most people would disagree about him being a nice guy, but I guess you and I know different." Jim wasn't sure what to make of that, but Pike turned and headed out of the room. "Well, have a good night's rest. The address is written on the fridge, if you need to call a taxi in the morning. Might be able to split that with Tony, if you get up early enough. I think he's got a six AM call in. If you can wait 'til later, I'll drive you myself."

Jim nodded, hearing all of this but his exhaustion was getting the better of him. "Thanks again. This is – you guys saved me tonight." he said, following Chris into the hallway. "I'd really like to pay you for the room, maybe when I get back."

The older man gave him that look again, eyes lighting on the captain's pin on Jim's shirt. "Starfleet... I used to work for them, before the accident." Steely gray eyes looked back up at Jim, assessing him silently. "Don't worry about it," he finally answered. "Any friend of Leonard's, you know..." Chris gave him a little wink, then turned and Jim saw him make his way slowly up the stairs.

Ten minutes in the shower and Jim felt like a new man. He looked down at his watch – half past eleven, late, but earlier than it would be if he was at Sam's place. He sent a quick text to his brother, let him know not to expect him tonight, set his alarm for early in the morning and then, stifling a yawn, sent out one more message.

  


 

Then he paused, and added,

  


 

 

Somehow, in the next couple of weeks Jim realized he'd made a decent friend in Leonard McCoy. Sure, it was fun to drop by the terminal and bother the man when they were working, poking him about his baseball team or asking how irritating the rest of the gate crew was being that day. Jim would laugh and Leonard would growl. Jim would smile and Leonard would growl. Then Jim would head off to points unknown and Leonard would tell him to be careful, to fly safe. Such small, quiet little words, but Jim always left feeling like at least one person worried about him, wanted him to return in one piece.

Before long, Jim found himself calling Leonard whenever he was bored and wanted to talk to someone. Traveling wasn't always glamorous, and Jim hadn't realized how much he'd missed having another human being in his life, a person to connect with. Len made a surprisingly good sounding board, being knowledgeable about Starfleet in general, and problems that came up with pilots and their crew. "Hey there," Jim said one evening, flopping into his hotel bed after a long day up in the air.

"Hi," he heard Leonard's voice on the other end, sounding tired. "Where you at tonight?"

"St Louis," he slunk further into his bed, twisting off the top of his beer bottle, tossing the cap onto the floor. "At least," he sighed, "I think its St Louis."

"Been there once, as a kid. Went up to the top of the arch, looked down and got sick."

"Don't like heights?" That surprised Jim for some reason.

Leonard snorted. "Something like that. So, what are you up to tonight?"

"Just happened to notice that the White Sox were ahead in the fifth inning."

"They should be tied. That first base umpire is blind as my sainted grandma," was Leonard's tired response. Jim laughed, taking another long swig and sighed. "You okay, Jim?" he heard Len ask, concern in his voice.

"Yeah, just – it was a long day." Felt like he'd done nothing but wait in lines all day, at the hotel, in the plane on the runway, getting to his hotel tonight. "Just frustrated, I guess. Moody."

"Don't you like it, the travel?"

"I love the flying," Jim replied automatically, meaning it. "Love that sensation when I lift off the ground, that steel tube leaving the earth and not being tied to the ground anymore." He chuckled as he thought about the feeling of flying. "Master of gravity, the plane under my control. I fly forty-one thousand feet high in the air, five hundred miles an hour, one hundred and fifty thousand pounds of screaming metal under my fingertips." Nothing like it, and after his first trip in the air Jim knew he'd never do anything else. "Some guys drive a car," Jim had told Sam once, when his older brother teased him about his cockiness. "I drive a 737." Two hundred lives in his care at a time. The ultimate rush.

There was a pause on the other end after Jim stopped talking. "Sounds like quite a life," Leonard said softly. "What's the problem?"

Jim closed his eyes, waves of exhaustion rolling off of him. "I could do without the hotels, the fast food, the getting up at the ass crack of dawn." Jim yawned, stretching out in his bed. "Don't get me wrong, I love meeting new people, seeing new places, new faces. You know, if there was a way to just fly all the time, never leave the sky. Live up here..."

Leonard chuckled. "Like one of those space shows?"

"Yeah," Jim laughed. "One day." Until then - uncomfortable beds, noisy rooms, fast food every night. It was his life right now.

"Not to worry," Leonard told him, his voice dropped low. "You'll be home soon."

"Home," Jim repeating, surprised at the bitter tone to his voice. "What's that?" For as long as he'd been on his own, home was a mostly empty apartment or a hotel room.

Sam had a home... but Sam was a different man. He'd grown up and settled down, married with a wife and kids and a SUV and a golden retriever. The American dream. It made Jim happy to see his brother happy, but that wasn't for Jim. The closest he ever got to feeling at home was in the sky, clouds below, stars above.

Not many people could understand that need and not resent him for being away so much. Doomed most relationships before they even began, so after a while, Jim didn't even try.

Jim could almost hear McCoy shrugging, as if the other man didn't have an answer either. "Home - its what you make of it."

"What does that mean?" Jim asked, curious about what Leonard's answer would be. What was 'home' to Leonard?

But Leonard wasn't going to help him. "Nothing, Jim... just waxing poetic." Then all of a sudden one of the Braves made a double play, and Jim laughed, listening to Leonard bitch about interleague play. The conversation turned to less troubling thoughts.and Jim wondered where Leonard's home was – and if he was happy.

He hoped so, for his friend's sake.

* * *

 

  


When Jim first took this West Coast route, he didn't think he'd be spending much time in San Francisco proper, but having a convenient local place to lay his head changed Jim's opinions on a few things.

As the spring turned into summer, Jim ended up staying at Christoper Pike's townhouse more and more often. He felt better once he convinced the man to take his money in exchange for a guaranteed place to sleep when he was in town and didn't feel like jumping to Sacramento. What Pike charged him was pittance compared to what he knew other pilots paid at less hospitable places, and Jim wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

So when Jim found himself staying in town on his days off instead of heading to Folsom, he started thinking that maybe it was time to get himself a place of his own, once and for all.

"It's not a bad idea," Pike told him once when he'd broached the question to the older man. Pike had been watching a movie in the great room when Jim arrived late one evening, and the older man offered him a slice of his pizza. The two of them ended up talking shop about Starfleet, their policies and some pilots they both knew. Jim caught Pike up on some work gossip and they compared stories about their favorite airports, favorite airplanes, close calls. "San Francisco's a great town for a single young guy like you. Lots to do, lots of people. You'll do well here."

 

Jim liked San Francisco. And he did do well here.

There was an energy about the city that appealed to Jim. The population trended young, concerts and live music venues and neighborhood festivals around every corner. Of course he was out of town for most of them, but that wasn't the point. Jim was a young, virile man in the prime of this life and this was the sort of place he needed to be. Exciting. Full of life and people.

Accepting of a variety of lifestyle choices.

He'd gone out a few times, engaged in a string of one night stands that were ultimately unsatisfying for reasons that Jim didn't want to think about. Never had this problem before, Jim sighed to himself, wondering why he was staying in on a Friday night when there was a city out there, bright lights calling his name.

Jim told himself he was tired, and that much was true. But there were other reasons he found himself laying in bed alone. One reason, specifically.

Having a crush on a grumpy gate agent was inadvisable and would lead nowhere. Jim knew this.

It didn’t stop him from falling asleep thinking about Leonard and that pouty scowl, wondering if those arms were wrapped around anyone else tonight.

 

  


 

 

The following Saturday Jim was shoving the last few bits of clothing into a box when he looked out the window and spotted Leonard's truck pulling up the driveway of Sam's house. There was something intriguing about seeing Leonard out of his knit uniform shirt and khakis that made Jim stop and watch him amble up the sidewalk. The man could fill out a pair of jeans, that was for damn sure.

Jim shook his head. Needed to stop that, right there. None of the gentle flirting Jim had instigated thus far seemed to go anywhere with Leonard, so he'd let it drop, settling for this strange sort of friendship. Shouldn't have been possible with people as different as they were, but it was rapidly becoming something very important to Jim.

Looking around, Jim sighed. There were more boxes than he'd brought with him originally when he moved in with his brother, along with his furniture in the storage rental and he began to wonder if maybe there wasn't enough room in Leonard’s truck to fit it all.

The doorbell rang, and Jim ran down the stairs in time to see Aurelan letting Leonard inside. "Good afternoon, ma'am," he heard Leonard say. "I hope I'm at the right place?" he asked, looking at the boxes stacked in the living room.

"You are," Jim said, getting their attention. "Len, this is my sister-in-law, Aurelan."

"Pleasure, ma'am," Leonard said. Looking down at her abdomen, he gave her a shy grin. "Congratulations."

"Congratulate me in two months," she said, one hand on her stomach, "when he's stopped kicking me in the ribs." Laughing, she walked toward the kitchen "Come on in, get some coffee before you guys get started." She poured them both a mug, and offered some muffins. "Sam was sorry he couldn't be here today to help," she told Leonard, looking worried. "He was called in unexpectedly, and it was one of those situations that needed his attention."

"It's not a problem. I've moved a time or two in my life," Leonard said, munching on a muffin. "Between the two of us, it'll get done."

"Sounds like you've moved from quite a distance, too, if I'm not mistaken," she grinned back, picking up her own muffin. "Is that Mississippi I hear?"

He laughed. "Georgia, ma'am."

"Stop it with the ma'am. Its Aurelan. And this is Peter," she added, a little head popping around the corner, throwing himself at Jim's legs. "He's gonna miss Uncle Jim."

"And I'm gonna miss this bugaboo," Jim said, tossing the little boy onto his lap, his chest feeling tight and warm at the strong sense of family he picked up from everyone. Unfamiliar to him in some ways. Too long he'd been alone, off on his own, the way he liked it. The way he _thought_ he liked it. "But its not too far away. Still closer than before."

 

They managed to get all of it packed down. "Where's your cycle?" Leonard asked, tucking one more small box into the front of the truck.

"I drove it up there a couple days ago when I signed the rental agreement, just left it up there at Pike's place." He looked over at Leonard. "Thought I'd just ride up front with you."

"Even better," Len grinned, taking the box out of the truck and finding a place to tuck it in the back. "I'm gonna go start the truck, while you..." he motioned at Aurelan and Peter, waiting to say goodbye.

Jim looked back at the little house and the people standing in front. His family. "Yeah," he said, nodding, feeling unexpectedly nostalgic. "I'll be right back."

If Leonard noticed that Jim seemed a little low when he returned to the truck, he didn't say anything, not for a while. They stopped at Jim's storage unit and added a dinette set and a small sofa Jim brought with him from his last place. It took a few moments to rearrange all the boxes, lashing everything down, the bed of the truck bungee-ed down within an inch of its life. "Hope you don't mind going twenty miles an hour," Leonard murmured, eying all of Jim's possessions with a wary eye.

"Not in any rush," Jim told him, hoping that was a joke.

It was slow going, especially in town. Once they got out past Sacramento, Leonard turned south down I-5 and picked up a little speed, but not much. They were surrounded by farmland, and Jim stared out the window. "You okay?" Leonard finally asked.

"Just looking... this looks sorta familiar," Jim said absently, his thoughts on a faraway place. "The farms, the green."

"Iowa, right?" Leonard asked.

"Yeah, grew up there, a little farm, just like that," he pointed at some corn growing in long rows on the side of the highway. "Thought it was the worst place on earth, couldn't wait to get out."

"How did you get out?" Leonard asked. "Military?"

"Nope, though I always thought I would have done okay there," Jim shrugged. "Didn't particularly care for some of their social policies. Anyway," he continued, "I've always loved flying, wanted to be a pilot since I was Peter's age. Built an ultralight when I was in high school," he grinned, proud. "Then I flew it onto the football field during a game."

"Jesus," Leonard chuckled. "Delinquent much?"

"Maybe a little," Jim admitted. "They kicked me out after that stunt."

Leonard's eyebrow arched at that. "What did you do?"

"Worked my ass off and got into Iowa State. English major, math minor."

Leonard whistled low. "That's an interesting combination."

"Maybe," Jim replied. "I mean, I knew I wanted to be an airline pilot, just needed the degree to be taken seriously. Didn't matter what it was in." Jim leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, stretching. "Got my pilot's license, then worked as a flight instructor while I got my certification hours to fly big boys. Was one of the youngest pilots ever hired by Starfleet," he added.

"That's what everyone says."

Jim grinned, curious about Leonard asking around about him. "What else do 'they' say?"

"Word is that you're a natural behind the stick. One of those gifted kids, intuitive."

"Intuitive," Jim repeated, small smile on his face. "Hadn't heard that one."

"Well, other pilots can be a bit catty. They say Jim Kirk is an aggressive know-it-all." Leonard didn't look like he put too much stock in that. "Way I see it, being ballsy in the cockpit ain't necessarily a bad thing, you know?" he chuckled. "Besides, if you want to know about a pilot, ask the cabin crew. They'll tell you everything."

"You talk to the FAs," Jim was suddenly curious about Leonard's relationships with other personnel. He never seemed too friendly with anyone, and didn't act like the sort to fuck around with flight attendants.

"Even better – I _listen_ to them," he told Jim, giving him a look. "Jim Kirk is everyone's favorite pilot. He communicates with the flight attendants. He respects his co-captains. He even knows his way around a plane engine, according to the mechanics. They all goddamn love you," Leonard rolled his eyes.

Jim laughed, his face flushing. "Bullshit," he finally grinned. "Can't be all good. What else?"

"Ahh, just a whole lot of jealous shit," Leonard said honestly. "Petty crap. You're still pretty young... what are you, twenty-six?"

"Twenty-eight."

"Same thing," Leonard grinned as Jim pushed his shoulder. "What I mean is, some guys have a lot more experience than you, don't have as nice a route. People can be stupid, nasty."

Jim shrugged. He'd heard this before, and until there was a new hot shot in town, he'd hear it again. "I put a lot of hours into this job," he remarked, looking back out at the rolling farmland, a boy and a girl chasing a dog around their yard. "Didn't have to worry about anyone else, so I worked every hour they could legally schedule me."

"I thought you said your mom-" Jim's face froze, so Leonard stopped talking. "Sorry, I didn't know that was a problem."

"It's not. It's just... we weren't close."

Leonard paused a few minutes before he spoke again. "You didn't mention your dad."

"Didn't know him, he died when I was a baby. Mom never seemed to get over that." He leaned back, looked out the window at the farmland flying by. "She remarried when I was a kid, a real asshole."

"Sorry." Leonard waited a moment before asking, "Did he hit you?"

Jim snorted. "Tried a few times, when he was drinking. She threw him out after a while, but..." Jim shrugged, not sure how to explain it. The damage had been done. Sam had left right after high school, and Jim's penchant for getting into trouble created animosity between him and his mother. Looking back, Jim knew that she'd tried her best, dealing with her sons. Jim didn't make it any easier, lashing out at any authority until he found a goal for himself, something that he had to really work for. "Your folks?" Jim asked, curious.

Leonard shook his head. "Car accident when I was in college."

Jim exhaled. "Sorry, man." That would have been shitty to go through, so young. "Any siblings?"

"Nope," Leonard answered, "just me. I was a late-in-life kid to begin with, I'm not entirely sure I was expected," he grinned. "Good people, my folks. But they went together," he said, his voice a little sad. "I think they'd have preferred that."

Neither man spoke for a while after that. Jim assumed Leonard was as lost in his thoughts as he was, his mind drifting back to where he grew up. Wasn't a bad place to be a kid, really. Fresh air and room to run and play (though taking that car for a joyride had probably been a mistake. Maybe.)

But it never felt like a _home_.

They stopped at a convenience store in Stockton to get some drinks and snacks. "So," Jim asked, as they got back into the truck and pulled onto the highway, "can I ask you something?"

"You mean, while we're doing all this sharing?" Leonard chuckled, opening up his soda. He gave Jim a cautious look, but nodded. "Sure."

Jim took a swig from his drink. "Rumor has it you're afraid to fly."

Arching an eyebrow, Leonard gave Jim a long side glance. "Rumor, eh?"

Jim chuckled lightly. "I mean, its just what I heard. You know how people talk around the water cooler." Leonard hadn't come out and said anything, so Jim kept going. "So, is it true?"

Leonard tore into his package of beef jerky with his teeth and for a moment Jim forgot what he'd just asked. "I mean, I don't like it, if that's the same thing. Avoid it if I can."

Jim sat back and watched Leonard for a while. "That makes no sense. Why the hell is someone who is afraid to fly working at an airport?"

"Didn't say I was scared," Leonard replied coolly, and Jim turned his head away. A few moments later, Leonard sighed and continued. "I mean, why not? Why is it strange? The hours are good for me, I make a decent living, and I get a certain allocation of non-revenue flights that I can use to bring my daughter out here to see me a couple times a year."

"You got a kid?" Jim wasn't sure why this surprised him so much - but it did.

Now it was Leonard's turn to get quiet. "Yeah," he finally nodded. "Her name's Joanna." Leonard pulled his phone out of the cup holder on the middle console of his truck, and scrolled through the pictures and handed it to Jim. "She's eleven."

"You have an eleven year old kid?"

"We were young," Leonard shrugged. "Anyway, she uses the tickets, so... hey, what are you doing?"

"Being nosy." Jim flipped through more of the pictures, looking at Leonard's daughter, her with a dog, her laughing next to Leonard, both of them grinning madly at each other. "She's cute," Jim murmured, eyes moving from the little girl to her father. Leonard's face when he laughed...

Jim kept sliding, wondering what else he'd stumble across. Strangely, he wasn't exactly shocked when he found one of Chris Pike standing in front of a small plane, laughing at something in the distance. Leonard glanced over, saw what Jim was looking at. When he didn't offer anything, Jim went ahead and asked about the elephant in the room. "So, what's the deal with you and Chris Pike?"

Leonard took a deep breath. "We used to go out."

Somehow, that didn't entirely surprise him, not from the way they'd looked at each other that first night Jim met Christopher. "You dated him?"

"Yeah." Leonard hesitated, then added, "Well, lived with him, really."

That got Jim's attention. "It was serious."

Leonard gave him a withering look. "You live with many people? Yeah, it was serious."

Jim was quiet for several moments before he asked, "What happened?" Not because he was nosy, that wasn't it. Well, it wasn't _all_ of it. He really wanted to know what had happened between them.

But Leonard didn't say anything, so Jim didn't press any further.

 

About ten miles down the road, Jim opened his mouth again. "You seeing anyone now?"

Leonard gave him another quick little glance, sideways. His mouth curled into the tiniest of smiles, as if against his will. "No."

Jim just grinned, and they drove in silence for a while.

 

 

"Nice place," Leonard said as they pulled into Jim's apartment complex in north San Jose late that afternoon. It wasn't fancy, Jim knew, but right now, it was a place to hang his hat when he was in town.

"It'll do. It's just me, you know?" Jim said, dropping a bag onto the floor. Looking around the empty rooms, Jim wondered where to even get started. "Got some money in the bank from when we sold the farm and property. Told Sammy to take it, save it for his kids but he wouldn't, flat out refused. Made me put my share away, even got it invested for me." Jim took a few steps into the empty room, looking around at this one bedroom, one bath in San Jose and smiled. His place. "Said I’d want it one day for something, once I settled down."

"You'll need it, if you stay in California. Real estate here is ridiculous."

"If I stay..." Jim caught Leonard turn his head and look over at him at those words. "Relax," he said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Leonard nodded. "Good," he murmured, heading back outside to begin unpacking. Jim turned his head and grinned.

 

Jim knew it was all going too well. Halfway though getting his boxes up the stairs the skies opened up, one of those unexpected showers pouring rain down on them. They scrambled double-time, first grabbing the mattress, getting it inside before it got too wet, then ran down for the rest of the boxes.

The rain had them moving faster than they might have ordinarily, but the wetness made the boxes slippery, the cardboard tearing. It was still another twenty minutes before Jim was able to close the door behind them, everything in Leonard's truck that he needed inside his small apartment. "That was unexpected," Jim sighed, shaking his hair like a dog to get rid of the excess water. Leonard stood in his living area, soaked to the bone. "Let me figure out where the towels are..."

They tore into a few boxes before they found them, drying off as best they could. "I owe you dinner, right?" Jim said, toweling off his hair.

Leonard shook his head. "Whenever, Jim. I know you got a lot to do right now."

"No, tonight," Jim said, walking slowly toward Leonard. "You helped me out today, more than you know. Not just the moving," he added, his voice dropping. "And I repay my debts. We can wait for our clothes to dry, or... "

"Or?"

"We can stay in, set up the cable and order pizza." Jim's eyes warmed as he caught the look Leonard was giving him, caution and curiosity warring against each other. "It's like my house warming tonight. Help me... warm my house."

"Okay," Leonard said, giving Jim another one of those rare smiles, the ones that spread to his eyes. Standing this close, he could see them better, brown and green and gold, like a mosaic.

Leonard's t-shirt was clinging to his body, droplets of water still dripping from his hair, giving him a boyish look. Jim took his own shirt off, hung it over one of the boxes. Leonard seemed to watch him, then slowly followed suit. He tugged the wet shirt over his head, and laid it down carefully over one of the kitchen chairs. Leonard turned and looked at Jim, his eyes dark and curious, and Jim wondered why something as simple as removing his shirt made Leonard seem so much younger, so much more accessible. "Hey," Jim said softly, walking toward him.

"Hey," Leonard repeated, watching Jim as he approached, but didn't move back, didn't shy away. He stood there as Jim got close, lifting his hands and resting them on Leonard's shoulders.

Jim wasn't sure who moved next, all he knew was that Leonard's hand was on his cheek, cradling it carefully before their faces bent together. Leonard's lips were dry, soft, pressing against the corner of his mouth before Jim opened up slightly, brushing the tip of his tongue against Leonard's full bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth.

Then they were kissing, deep and wet, tongues sliding against each other. Jim began walking them backward, toward his bedroom, undoing Leonard's pants on the way. They tumbled onto Jim's mattress, laying on the floor in the middle of his bedroom. Tugging at wet denim, Jim memorizing the way Leonard looked when he smiled, laughing as he tried to pull off the wet socks sticking to his feet. Soon they were both naked, stretched out on that mattress, pausing only long enough for Jim to dig in one of his bags for a couple condoms and some lube.

Leonard didn't disappoint. Jim knew he'd be a strong lover, one of those guys who wouldn't waste too much time. Hooking Jim's leg high over his elbow, Leonard fucked him deep and slow, dragging it out so long that Jim was a quivering mess, begging for relief.

Afterward, they lay tangled together. "You okay?" Leonard murmured, his mouth against Jim's shoulder.

"Yeah," Jim sighed, tilting his head to look down at Leonard. Fuck, this had gotten serious fast. Felt serious, even after just a few hours. How? "Just, you know. Long day, moving."

Something in Leonard tightened. "Want me to go?" he asked, a false casualness in his voice.

In the past Jim would have preferred that, not wanting to deal with the awkwardness of that morning after. But right now - "No, no- I was just thinking... I'm glad you're here." Jim took Leonard's hand and pulled it around him, draping the other man around him like a blanket. There was something infinitely sweet about not being alone tonight, in his new place. That it was Leonard here with him made it that much better. "Help me christen the place."

Leonard laughed at that, deep and low. "Glad I could help," he rolled over Jim, pulling him closer with a little growl.

"Maybe after dinner we can try out one of the other rooms."

"...maybe."

 

A month passed, more or less, before Jim's apartment was completely moved in, all his boxes unpacked, all the last bits out of Sam's house.

Len spent the night once a week, when Jim was in town, or Jim would drive to Len's place when he got back in town. They both seemed to enjoy the arrangement. Cautious, simple, nothing too complicated – two men who enjoyed being together. Occasionally, if Jim got back early enough or had a day off the two of them would go to a movie theater first, or have dinner out before returning to either man's apartment.

Once there, it wasn't long before one of them would reach for the other's hand, pulling close. Behind those closed doors they were different somehow, as if they could remove the rough armor of their daily lives. Jim could set aside the heavy responsibility of being captain, having all those lives in his hands, for a few hours. He laughed as he watched Leonard McCoy, scourge of Terminal Four at SFO melt in his hand, purring in pleasure as Jim rubbed his shoulders and neck and back.

Their kisses surprised Jim with their tenderness. It was wholly unexpected and it felt wonderful, and for the first time in a very long time, Jim felt like he _belonged_ somewhere.

 

But it was difficult, Jim being gone so much. They didn't date like conventional people did, settling for a few hours here and there. More often than not, they talked on the phone, late at night when both of them were done with the day's duties.

  


 

It was after eleven when Jim's phone rang. "Hey." Jim heard Len's tired drawl on the other end of the line. "Not too late, is it?"

"Nope," Jim said, rolling over to his stomach so he could talk easier. "What is it, nine there?"

"Yeah," Len said. "How's Texas?"

"Hotter than hell, even at this hour." Jim heard some clanking around, and imagined he could hear Leonard opening his fridge. "What are you making?" he asked, grinning.

"Crap," Leonard replied. "Heating up a pot pie."

Jim looked over at his trash can, filled with the remains of a burger and fries meal. "Next time I'm there, I'll make you some real food. You like Italian?"

"Love it," Leonard answered. "You can cook?"

"Among other talents." He didn't get to very often, but Jim enjoyed making something warm and delicious when he could. "Anything else happen today?"

"Not really," Leonard sighed. "A fight with my ex, but... wasn't much, really."

Leonard didn't talk about her too often, but Jim knew that whatever happened there still stung him, even though they'd been apart for several years now. "Anything bad?"

"Same old shit," he snorted. "She needs more money for the orthodontist because braces are fucking expensive, especially when you go to an out-of-network provider. I just asked, maybe they could find someone in-network, make it a little easier on both of us. You'd have thought I'd asked her to- " Then he stopped. "Ah, never mind. I don't need to bother you with this shit."

"It's not a bother, Len," Jim told him, though truth be told, he wasn't sure how to respond. He'd never been seriously involved with someone who had this kind of baggage in his life. "I mean, if you need to talk, you know..."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks," Leonard murmured, sounding all out of sorts now. Jim wondered if he got like this often when he talked to the ex.

A glance at the table next to him pushed thoughts of Leonard's past out of Jim's mind. "Oh, before I forget - friend of mine is looking to unload a pair of tickets to the All-Star game this year. I told him not to sell them before I talked to you," Jim grinned, reaching over to pick them up. He'd gotten a good deal, too, wanting to surprise Len. "You interested?" he asked, excited.

But the line went quiet. "Len?"

"I'm here," Leonard said, hesitation in his voice. "Um, I don't know, Jim. It's in Boston this year, right?"

"Yeah." Jim sat up, wondering what was wrong.

"I- um..."

"What, you don't like Boston?"

Another long pause. "I don't like flying."

Jim remembered talking about that, but... "Yeah, I just wanted to check with you - you know, special case. I know you like baseball. We could fly out, have some clam chowder, stay at a nice hotel." Their first trip together - Jim had been thinking about something like that for a few weeks now, spending real time with Len, just the two of them.

"Yeah," Leonard began. "It's just - it doesn't suit me, flying." Another long pause. "I can't."

Jim thought about how much he loved it, being up in the air. The open skies, the freedom, the way the Earth looked as he ascended or descended. There was no rush like it in the world. But Len didn't like that. "No problem," he said, hiding the disappointment in his voice as he dropped them on the table. Maybe Hikaru would like them. "Just thought I'd check."

"I appreciate it," he heard Leonard say, honesty in his voice, colored by embarrassment. "Maybe we could watch it together, if you're off."

Jim rolled over, chuckling quietly. "Yeah, I'd like that." He reached down and cupped himself through his boxers and sighed. "Of course, I'll have to see what I can do to distract you from the television when your precious Braves are playing."

Len gave a little snort. "Wouldn't take much." He made a little groaning noise and Jim imagined him touching himself. "Just your mouth."

That made Jim groan back. "You like that, eh?"

"Oh yeah... " Len growled. "That thing you do with your tongue, fuck..."

Jim squeezed himself, wondering how far Len would go here, if he would give Jim what he needed tonight - some relief, some affection, even a thousand miles away. "Tell me."

Again, Len didn't disappoint. He started talking, describing in vivid detail what he wanted from Jim, where he wanted that tongue, and how he was going to fuck him when he saw him again. "Not even gonna make it to the bed, Jimmy. Gonna pull those tight pants you wear down and bend you over my sofa and just fuck you open, right then and there."

 _Fuck_ \- Jim's fist was loose around his cock as he stroked himself slow, Len's voice ringing inside his head. It was low and deep, rumbling in that rough Southern sort of way and it sent Jim into the next level every time he heard it. He lay down in bed, perching the phone against his ear while he listened, still surprised that Len would do this.

He could imagine Len sitting back in his favorite recliner, wearing those thin white t-shirts he liked and his ratty pajama pants pulled down to his hips. It wasn't hard to picture Len's fist wrapped around that thick cock of his, stroking the head and shaft with short, sharp tugs and Jim wanted to get back on a plane and get to Len's place right now, just to watch this. "Love your cock in me... want you to jack me off while you fuck me." A cock inside him, and a hand on his own shaft - Jim loved it like that, the double sensation pushing him to the edge every time.

But Leonard grunted in response. "Nah, not gonna let you come. Gonna reach around and grab that sac of yours, hold it while I fuck you deep and good." Jim could hear that sharp need in Len's voice now. "Gonna come all over you, Jim, gonna come on your ass, your back, gonna come- fuck, Jim..." Len was roaring and Jim let out a soft whine, hearing Len exhaling loud, always so fucking vocal when he came and Jim _loved_ that, loved it so much, knowing Len wanted him...

"Ahh, fuck-" Jim's hand stroked faster now, kept moving as he came all over himself. He nearly dropped the phone reaching for a tissue, trying to keep his bed from getting all messed up. It was a few moments before he'd composed himself enough to speak. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" Len murmured low, his voice thick and lazy with afterglow.

"Every time I think I got you pegged... you're incredible, you know that?"

Len laughed to himself. "Go to sleep, Jim. And be careful tomorrow, okay?" Jim felt the warmth and concern in those words, and it tugged something deep inside him, knowing that across the country, someone going to bed tonight missing him. Worrying about him. Wishing he were there.

It was a good feeling. "I will, promise." Checking his alarm one last time, Jim rolled to his side and messed with his pillows until they were comfortable (and felt like someone was laying beside him) before closing his eyes and falling deep asleep.

* * *

  


October rolled around, and Jim discovered that while Len was married to baseball, he had a passionate side thing going with college football in the autumn months. Saturday afternoons together were typically spent comfortably flopped on the sofa, even if Len's precious Ole Miss Rebels weren't playing. Jim followed along enough, always knew how his Cyclones were doing in their conference.

This weekend, however, he was going to miss the game, flying back the last leg of a grueling five day run that had him all over the country. There were times Jim wasn't sure what time zone he was in anymore, much less what city. This last day, at least, he had a friend at his side. Hikaru had moved up to the 737s that Jim flew, and today he was co-piloting the flight back to San Francisco with him.

Flying with Sulu always meant the time would pass quickly, but in a good way. Today, however, Jim found himself being subtly grilled. "So, you and McCoy," Hikaru began slowly as they were checking their instrumentation. "What's going on there?" he asked, going over the pre-board procedures.

Jim tried not to grin. It wasn't like they were trying to keep it a secret, but Leonard was a lot more private about his personal life than Jim was, and Jim wanted to respect that as much as he could. Besides, he chuckled to himself, most people at the airport couldn't see past the grumpy persona that Len affected at work, so the idea that he might have a personal life, much less a highly sexed one with one of Starfleet's rising stars would be unfathomable to them.

But Hikaru's question told him that at least a couple people had an inkling... "What do you mean?" he replied, innocently.

Hikaru laughed. "Well, if you don't want to talk about it..."

"I didn't say that," Jim began, looking away but still smirking. He knew that he could trust Hikaru with this. "I just want to know what you heard."

"Not much," Hikaru retorted. "Just that you guys are spending a lot of time together. Naked." Jim crumbled up a piece of paper and threw it at him. "Oh, so its true," Sulu laughed. "You tamed the beast, so to speak."

"Maybe I did..." Just then one of the crew entered the cockpit, giving them final numbers and information regarding their passenger list. Jim finished going over his checklist, and waited until the flight attendant left the cockpit. "Does that surprise you?"

"You know, to be honest - it doesn't." Sulu glanced at him sideways, good-naturedly. "You always were a foolhardy son of a bitch."

Jim laughed with Sulu at that pronouncement. "Taking my life in my hands?"

Hikaru chuckled. "Something like that." The tower chirped at them, relaying a last minute runway change. "So, does he growl in bed?" he asked, nonchalantly, eyes still on his gauges.

Jim's face looked nearly angelic. "All the damn time, Hikaru." That, and his satisfied smirk were all the answers that Sulu was going to get on the matter as pushback began and they settled into their long flight.

 

  


 

Jim had made an overnight run to New Orleans and back, so his cycle was parked in one of the more secure lots at SFO. He'd worked hard to make some contacts with the parking attendants, hoping that they'd keep a closer eye on his girl when she was left on those overnighters.

His stomach growled as he headed up Highway 101 toward Leonard's place in Sunnyvale (the irony of which never failed to amuse Jim). It wasn't too late, earlier than normal, and this made Jim happy. Would give him a few more hours to spend with Len before headed home tomorrow.

He pulled into Len's apartment complex and parked his bike next to a familiar dark blue Audi sedan - Christopher Pike's car. Jim stared at it for a moment, then began heading upstairs to Len's apartment. He knocked at the door, pushing back that feeling in his stomach, flopping slowly, wondering what Pike was doing here.

"Hey," he said as Leonard opened the door. "Bad time?"

"No," Leonard shook his head, gave Jim a little smile. "Come on in," he added, opening the door wider. Jim stepped inside, nodded at Chris, sitting at the kitchen table. "Hey there."

"Hello Jim," Chris said, standing. "Well, you've got company now, I'll be off."

"Don't leave just because-" Jim began.

"No, we've completed our business." Chris looked over at Leonard. "If you change your mind-"

"I know where to find you."

The room was quiet for a long moment after that. "Right," Chris finally said. "Good night, you guys," he added, then left.

It took everything Jim had not to ask what that was about, but when Leonard didn't say anything he took that to mean that the man didn't want to talk about it. "Hey," Len told him as he walked toward Jim, resting an arm around Jim's shoulder and pulling him close. "How was your trip?"

"Good," he said, leaning close, their lips brushing together. "Good weather, good flying. Looking forward to a couple days on the ground," he admitted. "You hungry?"

"Starving," Len said, taking Jim's hand in his own. "Thought we could go out, if you wanted. Catch dinner and a movie. We've got some time tonight - its not as late as it is when you usually show up."

Jim nudged him in the shoulder. "Yeah," he gave Len's arm a little squeeze as he walked to the kitchen. "Well, no one said dating a pilot was easy."

"Guess not." Leonard looked up and over at Jim. "Is that what we're doing? Dating?"

For the first time in a long time, Jim felt uneasy. Had he misread this? It had been a few months now, and neither one had made any sort of declaration, but... "Not if you don't want to be-" Jim began, feeling foolish. He'd always been the one to shy away from something like this, and this is why.

But Len must have caught that look on his face, because he stopped, and walked over to Jim. "No, its not easy dating a pilot," he agreed, stopping Jim from speaking more by kissing him, soft and gentle. "But sometimes its worth it."

It _was_ hard dating a pilot, Jim thought to himself as their arms wound around each other. Jim was away from San Francisco more than he was in it, and when he was home he was often bone-tired, exhausted. The time they were able to spend together often consisted of eating in, watching television or a movie, then falling asleep after some prolonged (and increasingly adventurous) sexual activities. It hadn't gotten dull yet, though in the back of his head Jim wondered if that would happen soon.

So there was no surprise when tonight they decided to stay in at Leonard's place and watch some television. Jim rambled through Len's cabinets and refrigerator and whipped up some breaded pork chops and seasoned green beans. He could see that Len was impressed with the plates set out on the table when he was done, and that made it all worth it.

After dinner they washed the dishes and tidied up before settling on the sofa and starting a movie. The story had just began on the screen, Jim settled in Len's arms when he turned his head, found Len's mouth and kissed him. Nothing aggressive, no real intent behind it other than Jim was happy, content, and wanted to share that feeling.

Then Len reached around and started rubbing Jim's nipples through his shirt, and Jim groaned into the kiss. Jim's hand snaked down and palmed Len's cock, reminding him of their earlier conversation. "Gonna call you Bones now," he murmured, unzipping Len's jeans and reaching inside. Leonard growled and sucked hard on Jim's tongue and Jim straddled Leonard, ripping the top buttons off his shirt as he yanked it open. Soon Leonard's hand was wrapped around Jim's cock, his mouth attached to Jim's neck when the phone rang. Len froze, turning his head. "Let it go," Jim murmured, finding Leonard's mouth again.

But Leonard continued to pull back. "Can't," he said, breathless. "That ring tone, that means home." Shifting Jim off of him, Leonard slid off the sofa and crossed the room to find his phone. "Hey," he answered, looking down on the floor. "When? Is she- yeah," he turned, and all Jim could see was his back.

Jim stood, tucking himself back into his pants as he headed toward Leonard, obviously upset about something. Leonard never talked about 'home', didn't mention his daughter unless he was asked (but then spoke at length, always with a smile on his face), so this felt... strange. Like this Leonard was a stranger, the one with a life somewhere else. "What happened?" he asked after Len put the phone down and turned toward him.

"There was a car accident." Leonard's face was so pale. "Joanna's in the hospital."

Jim's heart stopped. "How bad?"

"Not sure. They're still working on them in the emergency room..." Leonard started pacing around the room. "I gotta get there. "

"Okay," Jim said. "We can do that. You know how to use the system to find a non-rev flight?" he asked.

"Yeah- I mean," Len sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand, "usually Uhura fixes it up for me, gets JoJo her flights set up."

Jim reached over and lay his hand on Leonard's shoulder. "Hey, let me get this, okay?"

"I can't-"

"Yeah, you can. Turn on your computer and I'll get you down there tomorrow." Then he looked at Leonard, who hated flying on a good day, and began to seriously wonder about all of this. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," Len said. "I mean, I can do it, if I have to."

"Okay," he said, watching Leonard power up his laptop. Jim opened up the company site, looking at the flights heading out of the airport the next day. He found a couple in the morning that looked promising for having a spot open for a non-revenue passenger.

In fact, this one had extra spaces, unusual for morning flights. Only one stop, too - SFO to Dallas/Fort-Worth, then onto Atlanta. "There's one in the morning, early flight. I signed us in as non-revs," Jim added. "We can get a couple hours sleep still, if you think you can."

"We?"

Jim stopped, feeling foolish. "I just thought... I could fly with you. I'll come right back if you want, I don't want to get in the way of your family, Len. Just thought... I'd go along for the ride." _So you didn't have to be alone._

Leonard looked down, then up at Jim, straight into his eyes. "Can you spare a couple days?"

"Yeah," Jim said, heading back to the computer and pulling up his schedule. "I've got two days are already off, and I can just pick up my next flight from Hartsfield." Looking around Len's bedroom, he saw a few articles of his clothing cleaned and folded, left behind from his previous visits. "See, Bones, I don't even have to go home and pack."

Leonard's mouth tugged up a little at that nickname, and Jim moved closer, hugging him. "It's gonna be okay."

 

 

They were at the airport bright and early, neither man having slept well during the few hours. Len had been on the phone for nearly an hour already this morning, finding out how his daughter was doing, slightly less worried knowing that she wasn't seriously injured - a broken arm and some bruising. But Jim's own nerves started buzzing at the idea of being around Leonard's family.

It was different being at the airport as a passenger. They were both out of uniform, so they waited in the security lines like all the other passengers, though they addressed the TSA agents by name.

Everything was moving well, and it didn't take too long for them to get through. Stopping by the gate to check in with the agent there, Jim was glad to see Nyota working that morning behind the counter. He checked them in as non-rev passengers and then they waited to see if there was room after all the paying customers checked in.

Thankfully it didn't take took long. "Leonard, Jim." They turned their heads toward Nyota, who waved them over. "Got two together," she told them as they approached her computer terminal. "The Dallas-Atlanta flight looks a little more full, you might need to check once you get there." She gave Leonard a warm, knowing look, as if she knew about his problem with flying, and offered him a small bag. "Crystallized ginger," she told them both. "My brother swears by it, keeps him from getting airsick."

Len looked back at her, murmuring his thanks. Jim gave her a special smile as they headed off and onto the plane, finding their seats, thankfully near the front. "How do you feel?" he asked, settling into the middle seat so Len could have the aisle.

"Nauseous... I may throw up on you." Leonard had a green look about him, and Jim's heart ached at the thought of him doing this.

Jim gently nudged the woman sitting in the window seat, asking if she wouldn't mind closing the window shade, and thanking her when she obliged, seeing Len's distress. Jim covered their laps with his jacket and took Leonard's hand in his. "Think you can close your eyes and just sleep through take-off?" Len glared at him, but didn't let go, lacing their fingers together. "Okay... close your eyes and squeeze my hand, then."

"That I can do." Leonard started taking deep breaths as the plane pulled back from the gate.

"Hey. You're doing great."

"I feel light-headed."

"Slow breaths, Bones."

He cracked a grin at that. "Don't call me that."

"Its a great name. Suits you." Jim leaned in closer, so their heads were close together. "Talk to me." Anything to get his mind off the fact that they were moving and getting ready to take off.

"About what?"

Jim hesitated, then asked the question that was on his mind since last night. "Why was Pike at your place?"

Len opened his eyes and looked at him, and Jim knew that he'd found maybe the one topic that got Len's mind off of Joanna and being in an airplane. "Well, its a long story."

"I got time."

Leonard took another deep breath, closing his eyes once more. "Well, he used to be a pilot, until he had this car accident a couple years ago. But he dabbled in real estate too, on the side. Buys low, sells high. We'd gone in together on some deals, and he just wanted to know if I wanted to go in again."

"What did you say?"

Leonard shook his head. "Market's just too unstable right now. And... the last time," Leonard hesitated. "I didn't think the numbers were coming up right, so I questioned him about it."

"He was cheating you?" Jim asked, all of a sudden getting upset at the idea of Pike taking advantage of Len - Bones.

Leonard's hand tightened around his as they felt the plane start to taxi toward the runway. "Worse. He was cheating himself. Gave me more money than he should have... anyway, it pissed me off, and we fought. I moved out after that." The plane moved faster and faster, Jim knowing in his head which way they were moving, what runway they had been directed to. One more turn and-

The plane sped up, and Jim felt Leonard tremble. "Pike wants you back," he said, half-question, half-statement of fact.

"No," Leonard said, his voice tight as the plane lifted off the ground. He gripped Jim's hand like a vice. "Jim..."

"I'm here," Jim said quietly, his thumb rubbing small circles into Leonard's skin. "Doesn't matter what he wants, I wouldn't let him have you." Leonard stared at Jim quietly though the rest of the ascent, letting go of their hands only when the plane began leveling off. "There we go," Jim said, reaching into the small bag Nyota had given them, taking out a piece of the crystallized ginger. "This is good," he said, offering Leonard a piece.

Leonard took it, chewing it slowly as the color returned to his face. "Not bad," he said, reaching in for another piece.

"Can I ask you something else?" Jim asked. When Leonard nodded, he continued. "When the phone rang, you called it 'home'. You still think of it like that?"

"Sometimes. Force of habit, mostly."

"You miss it?"

"A little," Leonard admitted. "Miss my girl, mostly. She's growing up so damn fast."

Jim asked the question he'd been curious about from the first day they met. "Why did you leave Georgia?"

Leonard got quiet. It was a few moments before he spoke again. "Sounds corny, but... I met Chris through a friend and we hit it off and soon... I dunno." Leonard reached into the bag for another piece of candy. "Before I knew it, I moved out there to be with him."

"He asked you to leave your home?" Jim had a hard time coming to grips with the idea of asking another person to leave everything and move across the country to be with you. That seemed like the commitment of a lifetime.

But Leonard just shrugged. "Didn't have much there."

"You had your girl," Jim pointed out, still incredulous.

"Yeah," Leonard answered. "But... I don't know. Thought it was the right move at the time. I thought I was in love." He sounded a little embarrassed by that, and looked away.

Love... Jim didn't understand it. Made people do foolish shit like this. It was a few moments before Jim spoke again. "You're not with him anymore. You could always move back," he said quietly.

"...could." Leonard leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes as the sleepless night seemed to catch up with him. Jim watched a moment longer, wondering what was really going on in Leonard's head, then followed suit, drifting off for a much-needed nap.

 

 

They had to change planes in Dallas, luckily not having to wait too long. Unfortunately, they were split up for this part of their journey, their seats a few rows apart but within visual distance of each other. "You gonna be okay?" Jim asked quietly as they stowed their baggage in the overhead compartments.

The look Len gave him wasn't all that reassuring, but he nodded at Jim. He held up the newspaper he'd picked up at DFW. "Got some stuff to read."

"Here," Jim said, tossing him what was left of the ginger candy. "Hold on to that for me, okay?" He saw Leonard roll the bag up and tuck it into his newspaper as he sat down.

The cabin crew began preparing for take-off. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone for one last quick message.

 

  


 

The pilot came on the overhead speakers and asked for all electronic devices to be powered off. Jim shut his phone off and stashed it into his pocket until they were allowed to turn them back on. No wireless on this flight, but he had a couple movies downloaded that he wanted to catch up on.

About forty minutes in, he saw Len get up and head back. Their eyes met and Jim waited for him to pass before he stood, stretched, and followed him back toward the bathrooms.

Jim nodded at the flight attendants, speaking softly to the one that he knew best. She nodded back at him, and headed up toward the front of the cabin with the drinks cart. Len was looking at him suspiciously, one eye on the tiny bathroom. "I hope you're not thinking what I think you are," Len told him.

Jim just laughed, pulling him back into a small private area where the flight crew kept the supplies and food. "Maybe if we were on another airline," he nosed at Leonard's neck. "Just wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm okay," he said, closing his eyes at that small touch. "Might've scared the guy next to me a little, during take-off."

"Everyone who's flown has been next to someone who doesn't like it. There's a lot of people out there like that. But I'm really proud of you, Bones."

Len laughed at that again. "Not gonna change your mind about that, am I?"

"Not a chance," Jim said, pulling him into another hug. There wasn't much room, but Jim reached around to rub the back of Leonard's neck. "Doing great, Bones."

The rest of the flight passed quickly for Jim, who nodded off again somewhere over the Mississippi. He felt the plane start descending and once they landed at Hartsfield, he watched as Len waited for him so they could deplane together.

It was four in the afternoon local time when they landed. Once they made their way out of Hartsfield they split up, Len rushing to grab a taxi to take him to the hospital while Jim took their bags and rented a car, then found a hotel room for them near where Joanna lived with her mom and step-dad. Once he checked in, Jim took a long shower, flopped down on the bed and let everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours flow out of him.

Jim was starting to think about dinner when the phone rang. "Hey," he heard Len's voice on the other end of the line, sounding so tired. "Sorry 'bout that, not calling."

"Bones, stop it," Jim said. "You need to take care of them. Everyone okay?"

"Yeah, they're both discharged and everyone is here at the house." Jim could hear the hesitation in Len's voice. "Can you come over for a bit?"

"Look, don't worry about me. I'm okay-"

"Jim," Len interrupted him, his voice dropping. "Don't leave me alone over here. Please."

 

There was a knot in Jim's stomach the entire time he spent in the car driving over there. Meeting Bones' family - well, his ex-wife and her husband and other assorted people Bones might or might not be related to - Jim felt apprehensive about it all. This was well outside Jim's comfort zone, and as he pulled up to the house with all the other cars parked outside, he reminded himself that Leonard had said 'please', which meant this was a big deal.

An older woman opened the door, petite with frosted blonde hair. "Hello," Jim said to her, offering his most polite smile. "I'm here for Leonard."

She glanced up and down at Jim, then opened the door wider. "I'll let him know you're here."

Jim stood inside, watching a few other adults talking, a couple children running around. It looked more like a party than someone coming home from the hospital, but then again, Jim had never really experienced an extended family before. Maybe they all did this sort of shit when someone was hurt...

"Jim?"

He turned his head and looked down into a warm crooked smile. Leonard's smile, in an older, female face. "Yes." Something about the smile on her face instinctively warmed him.

The older woman gave Jim a quick once over before pulling him into a warm, Southern hug. "Lenny told me you helped him out, came out here with him on this trip. Mighty nice of you," she added. "I'm his Aunt Beth." Another big smile and he grinned back at her, feeling better.

"It was nothing," he replied, seeing some other eyes on him now. Jim wondered which ones were Leonard's family and which were Jocelyn's.

"Pssh," she said, slipping her arm around Jim's elbow. "Learn to take a compliment, Jim. I know he appreciated it. Have you eaten?"

"No, ma'am," he admitted, and was led into the kitchen, with several boxes of take-out fried chicken and french fries strewn on the large dining room table. There were some sodas and plastic cups on the table, signs that someone had hastily thrown together dinner for a small crowd. All these people who wanted to make sure Bones' ex-wife and little girl were safe.

She must have caught that surprised look on his face. "I don't know about California folk, but it's what we do here whenever someone's sick. Invite the family over to eat," she chuckled. "Grab a plate," she told him. "Lenny and Joce are talking on the phone to the doctor right now, but he'll be out in a bit."

Jim had just finished his second piece of chicken when he noticed he wasn't alone at the table anymore. A young girl was trying to pour herself a drink from one of the large pitchers but the cast on her right arm wasn't helping matters. "Here, let me help you with that...." he said, looking down into her hazel eyes and Jim realized this was Leonard's daughter. "You must be Joanna," he told her with a smile, wondering why he was suddenly nervous. "I'm Jim, a friend of your dad's."

She looked up at him, the right side of her face bruised up and bandaged. "Hi," she answered shyly. "My dad said you were coming."

At least Leonard knew he was here. "You doing okay?" Jim asked, pouring her the drink and passing it over to her good hand.

“I broke my arm,” she told him, a curious look on her face. “Dad said you were a pilot.”

Jim grinned. “Yeah, I work for Starfleet like he does.” Her face smiled widely at that, and Jim could see the strong similarities in their faces. "I'm glad you're not hurt too badly. He was really worried about you."

She looked up at him again, and Jim realized that those eyes were going to be his downfall. Damn. "You want to sign my cast?" she asked nervously.

That shy thing didn't last long. Jim noticed that Joanna seemed to take a shine to him, as his mother would have put it. She asked Jim all sorts of questions about his job, about California, about where he was from. Eventually Leonard found them, introducing Jim to others who approached them - his uncle Walt, some cousins, Jocelyn's mother (who Jim recognized as the one who opened the door), and finally Clay Treadwell, Joanna's step-father.

Everyone was so damn _polite_ , the opposite of what Jim expected, though Jim wasn't sure if they were all just in shock or if they really all just got along like this.

 

Eventually people started leaving. Leonard went up to tuck Joanna into bed when he heard his name. "Jim?" He turned around and found himself face to face with Leonard's ex-wife, Jocelyn, standing in front of him, her right knee bandaged up and leaning on some crutches. “I was wondering if I could have a word with you?"

There was no one to save him. “Sure,” he said politely, following her out the back door, no idea what this conversation was about. "Are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine," she told him, walking slowly. "I didn't like being stuck in that hospital bed all day, and now I just want to stretch my legs." It was well-lit, their backyard neat and well-tended. Jim could see a trampoline off in one corner, and that touch of domesticity made him smile. “I hope you don't think this is presumptuous,” she said, stepping carefully onto the deck, “but Leonard and I don't have one of those 'out to kill each other' relationships. I only want what's best for him.” When Jim didn't say anything, she chuckled. “I know, sounds suspicious. At any rate, I heard a little about you and just wanted to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Jim said, not realizing that until he said it, but he _did_ want to see her. Wanted to see who Leonard had married. She looked like her mother, the woman at the door, petite and angular. Really pretty. She wasn't a monster, that was clear, but she wasn't the warmest person he'd ever met, like Leonard's relatives. More calculating.

Reminded him a little of Pike.

“Anyway,” Jocelyn started, “I just..." Then she stopped. "Be good to him." Jim stared at her as she spoke. "Not too many of us have put his needs first. Me included," she said. "He was a med student, did you know that? He stopped when I got pregnant and we had to get married. Never finished. That's part of why his family never liked me." She looked over at the house. "It didn't work out between us, but I know he's a good man. He could have done great things with his life."

"He'd say he's done some great things already," Jim replied tightly, remembering the way Len had looked at his daughter, pride and love written all over his face.

Jocelyn laughed. "Well, he would, wouldn't he." She gave Jim a long look, then started walking inside. "The last one he dated, that pilot - he didn't quite appreciate him." She smirked. "I know, rich, coming from me. But we weren't meant for forever, and we both know that now," she added, her hand on the door.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because he brought you to meet my daughter and he never introduced the other one to my daughter." She hobbled toward him and before he knew it she was standing close, looking him straight in the eye. "That means you're special... and I thought you should know."

 

They left soon after that. "Did I see you talking to Joce?" Len asked as they settled into their hotel room. When Jim nodded, he asked, "Well, what did she say to you?"

"Just curious about me," Jim said, not sure why he was holding back. That whole conversation ran through his head over and over on the ride back to their hotel room. Jocelyn said Jim was special, more important to Leonard than Pike had been.

But Leonard had _lived_ with Pike. Had uprooted his whole life, moved to San Francisco to be with him. That seemed pretty damn close to being married, something Jim never saw in his future, no matter the politics. He liked Len, cared enough about the man to drop everything and bring him to his family. But... what did Len want from him? Did he want something big like that, something permanent?

 _Fuck..._ Len had introduced him to his kid. _What did that mean?_ "I'm gonna take a shower," Jim said, watching Len strip off his clothes and fall into bed. "I'll be out in a minute."

Standing under the hot water, those thoughts kept festering inside his head.

Bones was asleep when he got out of the shower. Jim pulled the blankets over them both, and watched him sleep a moment. Jim reached out and touched his hair, a small smile as Bones leaned into it as he slept. _Bones_... silly nickname, but somehow it fit. It wasn't that Jim didn't care about this man - but he was twenty-eight. He didn't want to be tied down yet, not to anyone... yet here he was, tying himself down to this man.

Jim didn't sleep well that night. Maybe it was the nap he took that day, but despite tossing and turning all night, he woke early, his body clock used to being up before dawn. Before he could think about what he was doing, Jim opened up his laptop and checked the available routes for the next day. He found an opening for a co-pilot out of Des Moines early the next morning, to Billings then Sacramento. Maybe it was a sign.

There was a flight out of Hartsfield, Atlanta to Chicago leaving in two hours. From there, it wouldn't be hard to get to Iowa. Jim knew the pilot of the Atlanta-Chicago flight, sent him a text and found out no one had claimed the jumpseat yet.

It look him less than a minute to decide. Jim put his name down for the route tomorrow. He dressed quietly in the bathroom, shaving quickly and pulling the wrinkles out of his uniform, trying to look presentable.

Leonard was awake when Jim was finished. "Hey," he asked, sitting up in bed, the sheets pooling at his waist. Any other time the sight of that would have made Jim incredibly happy, but right now - this knot in his stomach just tightened.

"Hey," Jim responded. "Getting ready to wake you up." His second lie to Bones.

"Going somewhere?" Len asked, the answer obvious, but they both knew that wasn't the real question.

"Yeah," Jim nodded, looking down at his shoes as he tied them, wiping some dirt off the sole. "I found a flight that worked out perfectly, but I need to get out of here pretty quick."

Even in the dim light, Jim could sense Leonard's disappointment. "Oh. I was hoping you could hang out here another day or so. It's a nice place. I know JoJo liked talking with you."

"Seems like a nice place," Jim agreed, pulling his luggage onto the bed so he could lock it. "Just - this is your family, Bones. I don't belong here."

The silence in the room after Jim spoke was deafening. "I'm sorry you feel that way," Leonard answered, his voice dropping low. "You didn't have to come, you know."

"Someone had to get you here," Jim retorted, not liking the guilt that Leonard seemed to be pushing. "Or did you want me to hold your hand on the way home too?"

Immediately he knew he'd stung Leonard. Jim could see him straighten in bed, back rigid and face falling into something stony and dark. No man liked his fears being made fun of, and Jim of all people knew how private Leonard McCoy was, how he kept people away. "I think I'll be fine, Jim. Thank you," he said coldly before laying back down.

Part of Jim - a big part - wanted to crawl in bed with him, to tell him he was sorry, that this was a stupid thing to fight about. But he'd made a commitment to take this flight, and minutes were passing by now. In the end, he grabbed his luggage and left his keycard on the table next to the television, not looking back at the man laying in bed.

On the way out of the hotel, Jim stopped off at the registration desk and gave them his credit card, prepaying that night and the next two, the look on Bones' face frozen in his mind. Then he found some space in the hotel shuttle heading to the airport, and left.

* * *

 

  


"Captain Kirk."

Jim looked up from his phone to see the terminal manager Mr Spock standing behind him in line at Starbucks. "Morning," he nodded, curious. The two of them didn't have much in common, and hadn't really talked more than a few minutes since Jim had settled in the area. Jim ordered his usual, a venti Cafe Americano and a bagel. "How are things with you?"

Spock glanced at him, then back at the airport behind them. "The holidays are typically our busiest season, and this one looks to be no different."

It had made Jim smile to see parts of the airport decorated for the holidays, green wreathes and festive and colorful ornaments scattered around. "Well, hopefully you'll be able to get away for a little while and see your family."

"As they live abroad, that is highly doubtful," Spock replied after giving his order to the barista. "My parents reside in Egypt."

"Oh," Jim said, both surprised and not by that detail. "Guess that's too far to go for a few days."

"It is. And you, Captain?" he asked, picking up his peppermint latte from the barista, pocketing the small chocolate bar he also purchased. "Any special plans?" Spock asked, giving off a mixture of curiosity and forced politeness.

Jim shook his head. "I have a few friends that were thinking about heading down to Mexico for the week, they invited me to join them." The idea sounded good, and Jim was seriously thinking about going. Sun, surf, beaches. Maybe some mindless sex to get his head back in the game.

But Spock's face... it looked distantly confused. "I understood you had family who lived in the vicinity."

"A couple hours away," Jim replied. "But I don't want to bother them."

"Hmm." Spock nodded and began walking away, shaking his head.

"Is there a problem with that?" Jim asked, stepping behind him and catching up to meet Spock's long strides.

"It is nothing," Spock answered, eyes darting around the terminal. "Merely, I was under the assumption you were more intelligent that the others."

Whoa. "Excuse me?" Jim asked, not sure he heard that right.

Spock looked back at him, confused. "It was simply an observation."

"A lot of people travel over the holidays," Jim retorted.

"Mexico is for college students on spring break and couples on their honeymoon, Captain." Spock spoke with a mien of quiet authority that Jim sort of envied, even when it was directed at him. "You are neither."

"Maybe I don't want to be around my family," Jim said, not sure why he felt defensive about this.

"That is entirely beside the point. Holidays are for the collective, not the individual."

"So I should sacrifice to make everyone else happy?"

Spock arched his eyebrow as he turned on his heel and began walking away. "Of course. I should think that was obvious, Captain." Jim watched as he approached Nyota, dropped the candy bar into her hands with the barest hint of a smile, and continued on his way.

 

Most airports had some sort of doughnut shop, but the one in New Orleans had a chocolate cake doughnut that Jim found slightly addictive. He was sitting at one of the small tables provided for their customers when a familiar face in a Starfleet uniform walked past him. Jim rolled up a napkin and tossed it at Hikaru Sulu, who turned, eyes flashing as he looked for the culprit. When he saw Jim, he shook his head. "You're a hooligan, Kirk."

"That's what they tell me," Jim grinned as Sulu sat down, joining him. "Where you off to today?"

Sulu gave him a grin. "I picked up Marshall's route, so I'm with you."

"Terrific," Jim said, meaning it. "Be nice having someone to talk to."

"Agreed," Hikaru answered. "How's the apartment?"

Jim leaned back in his chair, finishing his coffee. "Love it. I wasn't sure how much I'd like the whole California thing," he said, adding air quotes around the state's name, "but... so far so good."

"San Francisco's great," Sulu agreed. "I was born there."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'd like to settle down there, eventually." Hikaru looked over at Jim, hesitating. "So," he began, "what's going on with you and McCoy?"

Jim's shoulders stiffened as he swallowed his bite of food. "Not much." He took a drink and looked up. "Why?" he asked.

Hikaru watched Jim's face for a moment. "Thought I'd say 'hi' to him yesterday morning. Guy damn near took my head off when I asked if he knew which route you were on."

Jim just got quiet. "I don't know, haven't seen him in a few weeks." Nearly two months, really. Not since that morning in Atlanta, when Jim left. No calls, no texts - nothing.

"Oh," Hikaru turned back to his coffee. "Sorry to hear it."

"No worries." Jim wasn't going to spend too much time being sad about it. It was easier to just keep busy and not have time to think about what he'd lost, or how much he missed Leonard. Jim looked down at his watch and sighed. "Fuck, we need to get going." Jim stood and clapped Sulu on the shoulder. "Ready to hit the road?."

"Right behind you, Captain," Sulu replied, looking down at his phone and frowning. "Shit... it looks we'll hit some storms out west later today."

 

 

The flight to Chicago was uneventful enough. They had an hour before they headed off to their next destination, time for the crew to refuel and get more food and drink into the storage. Hikaru went to the lounge to use their computer, but Jim wandered around the airport, watching the small stories unfold around him. There were a few gate agents talking, laughing, making plans for a weekend trip to Vegas and for a brief moment Jim wondered if Bones would enjoy Vegas - the gambling, the shows, sitting by the pool and people-watching, making up his own little stories about folks as they walked by.

But then he remembered, he wasn't with Bones anymore - Bones wasn't even Bones, now he was just Leonard, someone Jim used to know. It was a strange ache that followed Jim back onto the plane that morning

Some problems arose on the tarmac, mechanical issues with the plane ahead of him and Jim's plane ended up sitting on the runway for close to thirty minutes before he was given the go-ahead to begin his take-off procedures.

"Midway Tower to Starfleet 1701, you are cleared for pushback. Proceed to runway C. Safe flying."

"Starfleet 1701 to Midway Tower, 1701 pushing back. Thanks for your help today."

 

The first three hours were smooth sailing. There were some storms that had formed over the Rockies, but their flight plan took those into account and with any luck, Jim and the plane would buzz right past them.

But just as they left the Rockies behind them, Jim heard the radio start talking. "Starfleet flight 1701, this is Salt Lake City. You guys have a line of thunderstorms that just materialized. We recommend you turn heading one-five-zero to get past it."

Jim looked over at Sulu. "Roger that, Salt Lake. Starfleet 1701 turning to heading one-five-zero. Thank you, Salt Lake." He felt the plane moving, and he tried to calculate how much more time this would add to their route. Planes were always padded with extra fuel for cases such as this, so that wasn't a concern. But by and large, no one liked flying in storms, and the smart pilot flew around them.

 

Unfortunately, the weather decided otherwise. "Captain," Jim heard, turning toward Sulu when he saw it, the shelf cloud a mile ahead of them, at least five miles wide, with streaks of lightning visible.

"Shit." Less than an hour left in the flight and this popped up.

"Think we can get above it?"

"We go straight through the front," Jim told him. "Doesn't look too bad just yet, get us out in the minimum amount of time." Jim reached for the radio, flicking the button to speak to the entire passenger cabin. "Good afternoon. This is the captain speaking. If I could have everyone's attention - it looks like we're not going to be able to escape the weather like I hoped we would. Some storms have developed ahead of us, and we'll probably experience a little turbulence before this is all over. I'm turning on the seat-belts sign and asking the cabin crew to double check that all loose objects have been secured and to go ahead and buckle themselves in."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the plane dipped low, as if falling into a pocket of air. "Shit," he repeated, double checking to make sure that his mic was off.

"Looks like visibility has tanked," Sulu said, eyes on the sky around them as the moist air got thicker and darker.

Jim sighed, flipping on the radio again, checking to see who was closest. "Starfleet 1701 to Las Vegas Tower, we've got some turbulence here."

"Starfleet 1701, I read you. Might try descending to flight level one-eighty." Translation, descent five thousand feet to flight level eighteen thousand feet.

Jim looked at Sulu with a worried glance, who shook his head in agreement. "Las Vegas, we can see lightning ahead in this storm. Not sure if descending is prudent."

There was a pause for a long moment, then - "Roger that, 1701. Maintaining altitude flight level two-thirty."

The rain started right after that, and Jim was surprised by the ferocity of it. He could feel the increased winds, the plane falling into air pockets but continued to move forward. "Reducing airspeed," he noted, knowing that would keep the stress on the aircraft to a minimum. The next several minutes became a balancing act, watching the altitude and the airspeed, the winds around them and the lightning in front of them as they flew through Nevada. "Holding a constant heading," he added, the plane bouncing as they flew on.

"Captain," Sulu murmured, and Jim didn't need to look to know what he was going to say. The color and texture of the clouds had changed, and Jim knew what was coming next. A few seconds later, he heard the hail bouncing against the windshield of their nose. _Shit._

"We can withstand this as long as it doesn't get too much bigger." Jim looked over at Sulu, pointing at the passenger compartment of the plane. "You wanna go check out the cabin, see if everyone's okay while we've got a little break in the turbulence?"

Sulu unhooked his belt and nodded. "Good idea, Jim," he said, standing as he exited the cockpit. Jim knew that in cases like this, it usually made people feel a little better to see someone in authority looking confident, reassuring them everything was under control.

He returned several minutes later. "Everything okay?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, for the most part," Sulu told him. "A few people freaked out, but they seem to be calming down."

For a moment Jim thought about Bones, and how he'd needed someone to be there, even on a good flight. "Maybe I should go talk to them."

"Once we're out of this," Sulu said, buckling himself back in. "We don't seem to be getting away from those clouds."

Right on cue, the radio began chirping. "Starfleet 1701, this is Las Vegas tower. We see the storm cell you are in increasing in size."

"We confirm, Las Vegas," Jim replied. "Got some lightning around us." Storms didn't scare Jim - anyone who grew up in the Midwest knew all about the power a good storm could wield.

Then there was a crash and a jolt. The lights on the controls flickered and went dark momentarily, then lit back up again. "Was that lightning?" Sulu asked, fingers flying as he checked over all the controls.

"I think so," Jim said quietly. A direct lightning strike was never a good thing, a rarity nowadays, but still - it happened occasionally. "Let's hope there wasn't too much damage."

Sulu punched a couple buttons, checking the gauges on his side of the plane. "Looks like its okay."

"Let's review the checklist to make sure-" Just at that moment, an alarm went off, cutting Jim off.

Sulu's face frowned. "I'm reading a loss of pressurization alarm, Captain."

"What?" So much going wrong in one afternoon. Jim wasn't sure what else could happen on this flight.

"Unless the instrumentation is wrong," Hikaru continued, "we're losing compression."

"Oxygen masks should have fallen." Jim frowned, knowing this could be an instrumentation failure, due to the lightning strike - or it could be a gradual decompression. Planes went down because of this, pilots not taking the lack of oxygen seriously until it was too late.

Reaching for their own masks, he placed it on his head and began taking deep breaths as he felt the bag inflate, watching as Sulu did the same. He signalled for one of the flight attendant's to enter the cockpit, and explained the situation to her before getting on the intercom. "Can I have everyone's attention. Our instruments are indicating a gradual loss of pressurization in our aircraft. This is not life-threatening at the moment, but I am going to trigger the oxygen masks to fall as a precaution as the plane descends to a safe altitude. I will instruct you when it will be okay to remove them, as soon as we reach ten thousand feet." Jim took a deep breath and added, "Please, just listen carefully to the flight attendants. Thank you all."

"Jim," Hikaru began, worry on his face. "I can't contact Las Vegas tower."

Jim reached for the radio. "Starfleet 1701 to Las Vegas tower, come in." Nothing. He repeated the request, but no one answered. After a moment, Jim changed the radio frequencies. "We've crossed into California, maybe SFO can hear us," he murmured to Sulu as much as himself, pressing the button on his microphone. "Starfleet 1701 to Bay approach, can you read me?" Only the crackle of dead air, silence. "I guess that lightning bolt did something to our radio. Fuck," he murmured under his breath.

"Do we declare an emergency?" Sulu asked. It was a good question. They had significant instrumentation down, and the oxygen issue was troubling.

Jim looked grim as he nodded. "Mayday, mayday, mayday," Jim called out into his radio. "Bay approach, this is Starfleet 1701. We have instrumentation failure, possible lightning strike. We have loss of compression. Current flight level one eighty, requesting clearance to descend to flight level zero niner zero."

No response. _Shit_ , he thought, repeating the radio call. "Bay approach, this is Starfleet 1701, Captain Kirk speaking. We are declaring an emergency, possible lightning strike, instrumentation is off, we have loss of compression. We are two hundred and fifteen miles out, heading one five zero. Requesting clearance to descend flight to level zero niner zero." Only silence on the radio. "Bay approach, we cannot hear you, repeat, we have lost radio communication with you. If you can hear us, we are descending to flight level zero niner zero." Nine thousand feet, enough to breathe without the oxygen.

With any luck, there wouldn't be a plane parked there below them.

"Setting radio transponder to code 7700," Sulu reported, turning the knob until it read that number. Standard procedure for any plane that isn't able to establish communication with air traffic control. Something every pilot knew, but few ever had to worry about.

"At least we're close enough to SFO. Let's start our descent checklist early and get lower." Jim felt his ears pop as the plane dropped several thousand feet in altitude, quicker than usual.

They continued for several more minutes, Jim flying the familiar path home. Because they could not rely on radio communication with air traffic control, both he and Sulu watched the skies diligently for other traffic that might be heading that way.

Soon they reached nine thousand feet, too low for Jim's liking, but at least he could take off the mask now. "We're about fifteen minutes out," he told Hikaru, who nodded in agreement. It was the sweetest sight he'd ever seen, the lights of San Francisco growing brighter. Once he was close enough to make out the landing strips of the airport, he heard Sulu mutter to himself. "What's wrong now?" Jim asked.

"I can't tell if the landing gear is locked."

"You're kidding me..."

"Wish I were, Captain."

"Starfleet 1701 to Bay approach. We cannot tell for certain if the landing gear has locked, repeat uncertain if our landing gear is functioning correctly. We will approach on runway fourteen." Jim knew it was in the back, the longest runway, in case their landing gear wasn't working, and they had to brake the hard way.

Jim looked at Sulu before calling his flight attendant into the cockpit once more. After briefing her on their situation, he got back on the intercom. "Okay, everyone. Almost there, we will be approaching San Francisco International in about five minutes. However, we cannot confirm if our landing gear is locked in place." Jim paused, wanting to make sure that the entire passenger compartment could hear him. "I am going to ask that the flight attendants brief everyone on how to brace for impact should we encounter a rough landing."

The city lights were getting bright now, and from Jim's vantage point it looked as if several of the runways had been cleared for them. Increased and heavy traffic circling in the skies told him that the tower had heard them, even if they couldn't respond, and Jim felt a little better about the situation. "Flight attendants - brace for impact."

Those words should have frightened Jim, but he felt incredibly calm right now. Nothing left to do but land this plane.

Maybe it wasn't strange after all, Jim pondered as he saw the ground getting closer and closer, that right now he was thinking about his family, wondering what they were doing. It wasn't exactly like his life flashed before his eyes, but the people he loved... some regrets, some missed opportunities, they seemed too close to the surface right now.

Spock was right - the holidays were for family, to be with the people you loved. Sam and his little clan were all the blood kin Jim had left, and they loved him, cared about him no matter what. Jim knew he needed to be there to see them all open his holiday gifts, to joke with his brother, to hold the new baby and roll on the ground with little Pete.

He thought about his mother, trying her best to make him understand that she loved him, in her own way. It had never been enough for him, growing up. Now Jim just wanted to talk to her more than anything, and tell her that he loved her too. She'd be proud of him, and Jim knew that deep down, that is all he'd ever really wanted.

And Leonard. _Bones._ His Bones. Jim had fucked that up royally, taken the love of a good man and walked away from it. He could admit to himself, now, as his hands gripped the controls that he missed Bones more then he'd ever thought he would. Jim had been wrong, so wrong in worrying that Bones cared too much about him.

What a stupid thing to be frightened of - being _loved_.

Whatever it took, whatever Jim had to say to Bones, he would make it up to him, as soon as he could see him again.

In his mind's eye he could see Bones on a flight like this, afraid and alone and Jim got mad, angry, knowing that his passengers were scared too, and he couldn't comfort them until he got this damn plane landed. He spoke quietly to Sulu, keeping his microphone on so that air traffic control could hear the cockpit, even if Jim couldn't hear them.

Sulu's voice was calm as he read out the altitude readings."Five hundred feet. Four hundred. Three hundred."

"Air speed maintained. Reducing thrust." Taking a breath, Jim hoped that gear locked into place. A belly landing could destroy a plane's structure, not to mention the injuries on board. Jim felt the plane lurch forward as it touched down. The gear felt locked but it still took too long to slow down - had to be something wrong. "Reverse thrust!" Jim called out, hoping to use the plane's own engines to slow them down.

He and Sulu held onto the controllers, braking as hard as they could before they felt it finally grind to a halt at the far end of the runway. Jim's hands ached as he carefully let go of the controls; he hadn't noticed how long he'd been gripping them until he felt his joints screaming at him.

The plane was down.

No one appeared to be hurt. Jim looked over at Sulu and sighed, leaning back against the panel. "Let's not do that again."

Sulu chuckled lightly and unbuckled himself. "Look at that, will ya?" The airport stair truck was heading toward them, along with an ambulance, two fire trucks, and the entire San Francisco Airport security force, from the looks of the lights and sirens headed their way. "Any landing you can walk away from," he began, looking over at Jim. "You ready?"

"Just about." Jim lifted the radio and began speaking. "Well, everyone, it looks like we've got a ourselves a welcoming committee. Since we were unable to contact the tower, we're going to park right here. You'll be able to exit the plane very soon, and it appears we'll all be bused over to the terminal." Jim took a moment, looked at the lights heading toward him. "I want to thank you all, personally for working with me and my crew as we got through this storm," he stopped and chuckled, "and I hope this experience hasn't turned you against flying with Starfleet Airlines again." He dropped the radio and sighed as Sulu opened the door to the cabin and began assisting the flight crew with getting the passengers off the plane.

Jim shook more than one hand as everyone exited, more people grateful that they'd weathered the storm, although there were a few angry looks and muttered obscenities his way.

A few more minutes turning off the appropriate controls, and thanking the cabin crew and Jim was finally off the plane, the last one on board. Jim touched the plane lovingly as he and Sulu exited, knowing this tough tube of metal had saved his life, all their lives. He didn't close the door as he headed down the stairs, knowing that Mister Scott was heading up to drive the plane over to one of his bays where he could get his hands on her, fix her up good as new.

Most of the passengers had been transported to the terminal, but there were still several people waiting on the tarmac to talk to him. He made out Spock's form, tall and straight, standing in front of several unfamiliar suits who Jim suspected were Starfleet executives. The reporters were a bit of a surprise, given the security around the airports, but nevertheless, there were people standing there yelling at him, flashes of light as the photohogs screamed his name, trying to get his picture.

Glaring at them, he reached Spock at the same time he pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it on.

  


Jim smiled at that.

"Captain Kirk!" Jim looked up to see the small gathering in front of him and Sulu. "Richard Jennings, Starfleet Airlines," he said, reaching for Jim's hand to shake it. "Helluva landing you made there," he said, relief pouring off his face. "What do they say, any landing you can walk away from..."

"Something like that." Jim stood and answered a few questions for the Starfleet guys, nodded to some suit who kept talking about a debriefing, just a quick interview, if he didn't mind.

But right now, all Jim could think about was one person, and how much he needed to see him. "Look-" Jim began, his voice higher than normal. "I don't think-"

"What Captain Kirk is trying to say," Jim heard Spock's voice behind him, those cool and even tones, "is that there are some personal needs he has to attend to, I am sure we can all understand that. If you gentlemen wish, we can wait together in my office and begin disseminating the data. I am sure he will join us soon."

Sulu stepped up behind them. "I can start, then Captain Kirk can join us when he's done."

That seemed enough for the suits, who began walking back toward the terminal. Spock turned to Jim. "He is waiting for you inside."

 _Waiting for you..._ "Thanks," Jim told him. "You know, I'm not going to your office tonight," he added, just to make sure Spock understood.

Spock's face remained impassive, yet his eyes... something warmed inside them. "I will keep them occupied as long as I can before I regretfully report to them that you were feeling ill and needed to be taken home." Jim laughed at that, the idea that Spock would lie for him. "Truthfully, reviewing the data will take us several hours, and I am certain that they will be quite amenable to a morning interview."

"Go, Jim," Sulu nudged him. "I can answer anything they need right now."

Jim looked at them both gratefully. "I'll be here bright and early."

"Yes," Spock arched an elegant eyebrow at him, "you will." With that, he turned crisply on his heel and followed the Starfleet execs back to his office. Jim pulled out his phone, scrolled to the B's and began texting.

But he waited until he was inside the crowded terminal, standing about fifty feet away before hitting 'send'.

 

  


 

Jim could see Bones standing near one of the check-in podiums, watched as he pulled the phone out of his pocket and read the message. Bones looked up, turned slowly and didn't stop looking until their eyes met. Jim saw him let out a breath, Bones' entire body untwisting as they began walking toward each other.

He didn't stop until he stood in front of Leonard, neither man speaking. "Are you all right?" Bones finally asked, stepping closer. "They said... they said your plane had lost-"

"I'm fine," Jim said, looking back at him. Bones' hair had gotten a little longer since they'd last seen each other, and Jim wanted badly to push a stray tendril off his forehead. "I'm sorry." All the things that Jim wanted to tell him, but right now, nothing mattered more than that. "I'm an ass sometimes."

"Jim-" Bones began, running a hand through his own hair. "I don't care. I just want-" he looked around. "Reporters coming this way. Can we go talk somewhere?" he asked, his eyes full of worry and need.

"Yeah," Jim told him, pulling his carry-on behind him. They began walking toward the terminal exit, arms and elbows brushing. Jim could feel the anxiety brimming off of Bones. "Hey," he said, coming to a stop. "I'm okay." Bones turned to face him, and Jim could see how really scared the other man had been. "Hey," Jim repeated. One hand lifted and touched Leonard's face and he pulled him close, kissing him soft, right there in front of the TSA screeners.

He ignored the wolf-whistles, smiling at the feel of Bones' arms winding around his waist as they moved into each other, another kiss, just a little deeper.

When they pulled apart Bones was blushing fiercely. "This is going to ruin my reputation," he murmured, his arm wrapping around Jim's shoulder as they began walking together.

Jim just laughed. "Shut up, Bones," he murmured and kissed him again.

* * *

 

  


 

  


 

It didn't get cold in San Francisco, not a proper winter like Jim remembered growing up in the Midwest, but he still wrapped his leather jacket tight around him as he left the airport that afternoon, an icy wind blowing in the air. Times like this Jim wished he had a car of his own, or even an old truck like Bones instead of his cycle; something heated and warm to make the drive home after a long day of flying.

He looked down at his watch, grinning. Still early enough to make his appointment, maybe even early enough to pick up some Chinese food and surprise Bones with dinner. Traffic looked bad, though, as Jim started his cycle, making his way out of the airport.

Instead of heading south on Hwy101 toward Leonard's place, Jim took the northbound exit, toward Christopher Pike's home.

 

He stayed longer than he planned at Pike's place, yet Jim felt the time was well spent. The older man had obviously done a lot of work on his behalf, showing Jim pictures of property after property on his laptop; some in San Francisco proper, some closer to the airport, if that was what they wanted. Bones had been right, Chris knew his way around the real estate market, pointing out how to tell which properties were overpriced, how some had been on the market too long and why, those 'coded words' to look for that realtors' used to disguise flaws and defects in a house.

On the one hand, the process didn't seem as hard as Jim initially thought it would be. Didn't seem like funding would be a problem either. Jim still had that nest egg tucked away in investments that he could tap into it if he needed to help with the down payment. But it looked like if he and Bones pooled their resources, they could qualify for a rock-bottom interest rate on a thirty year mortgage without too much of a problem.

Thirty years... one year ago, the idea of tying himself down to something (or someone) that long-term would have scared the shit out of Jim. Still did, in some ways. But the last year had easily been the best year of Jim's life. Good time, bad times, laughter, some fights. But through it all they had been together, and no matter where Jim was, he knew that someone was waiting for him at home, missing him, wanting him, loving him - and inside him, that changed everything.

The more Jim thought about this hare-brained plan of his, the more he _knew_ it was the right idea.

 

The sun was setting as he left Pike's house and headed south toward Sunnyvale. Jim stopped off at Pings and picked up their usual order and made it to Bones' place before darkness settled. Jim's hands were full as he jogged up the flight of stairs, holding the food, his carry-on luggage, and a folder containing some important paperwork. Juggling all these things, he pulled out his key ring and let himself into Bones' small warm apartment, smiling at the simple Christmas decorations sprinkled around. "Honey, I'm home."

 

Bones' head popped out of the kitchen, rolling his eyes. "Hey," he said, walking toward Jim, taking his luggage and brushing their lips together. "Welcome back. How was your trip?" he asked, rolling Jim's carry-on bag out of the way as they headed toward the kitchen.

"Good," Jim answered with tired grin. He dropped the food bags on the counter and opened the fridge, pulling out a beer. "Heard someone tried to sneak a dog on board at the airport today," he laughed, tapping the folder on Bones' head before setting it on the counter next to the food.

"They got as far as Security," Bones drawled, taking a sip of his own drink and leaning back against the counter opposite Jim. "When the lady found out her pup was gonna be x-rayed, she panicked and spilled." He began to laugh. "The look on Spock's face when she was trying to explain, holding this little scrap of a dog up to his face to try and convince him that he was a harmless pet..." The smile on Bones' face was warm and relaxed and Jim stepped across the small kitchen, settling the bottle down and wrapping his arms around the other man, pulling him close.

Bones groaned softly at the lips on his neck. "Missed you," he murmured, his hands spread over Jim's back. "What's that?" he asked, looking down at the folder.

"Christmas present," Jim told him, another peck on the cheek. "But an early one. I'll show you after dinner."

They ate in the living room, sitting on the sofa watching some TV programs Jim missed while he was gone. A quiet evening in, Jim thought, looking around. A warm home, good food, and the man he loved who loved him back.

It wasn't exciting or unpredictable, the life Jim always thought he wanted. But maybe he could save exciting and unpredictable for work. It felt pretty damn good knowing that _this_ , what he had here with Bones, would never change.

Except maybe... it would change a little. Jim took their empty plates to the kitchen and returned with his folder of printouts and two more beers. He dropped them on the table in front of Bones, taking a sip while Bones glanced up at him, puzzled. "What's this?"

"An idea."

Bones looked down at the folder, opening it slowly. He pulled out the sheets of paper, each with a photograph of a townhouse or condo, details on the bottom. Bones looked over a few of them, his face furrowed in confusion. "You talked to Chris?" he asked, his finger tracing along familiar handwriting at the bottom of one page.

"I did," Jim told him. "Seeing as he knows a lot about this stuff, and I know nothing about the real estate process."

Bones gave Jim a long look. "You buying a house?" he asked, curious.

"I was looking at townhouses, maybe a condo." Jim reached for Bones' hand. "And... I was thinking maybe that we could do this together."

"A place of our own?"

"Yeah," Jim said, a smile tugging at his lips as he saw Bones' expression, surprised and happy. "Between the two of us, we can afford a decent place. Some of these are closer to the city, this one has a nice view of the bay. And this one," he pulled another sheet from the folder, "this townhouse is close to the airport, with a first floor apartment that we could turn into a crashpad for friends, make a little money on the side."

"That's an idea," Bones told him, that little grin still on his face. "You really wanna do this?"

"Yeah," Jim said, meaning it. "I want to do this, with you. Make a home together. Someplace big enough for a real tree next Christmas," he said, looking over at the tiny decorated fern on Bones' table. Taking Bones' hand, he played nervously with his fingertips as he tried to explain what was in his heart. "I want a home, Bones. When I'm done with all my traveling around, at the end of the day, I want to come home to you."

Bones leaned over and kissed Jim, both of them keeping their eyes open as they watched each other's faces. It was a big step, one neither took lightly. Looking through the rest of the sheets, Bones' brows arched questioningly. "Look at the size of this house, Jim," he said, glancing at one of the larger properties, a split level house sitting on an acre. Underneath were even more larger homes for them to examine. "These are gonna be way outside our price range."

Jim smirked. "Well, you know real estate. Its all about location."

Bones stared long at him. "Where are these at?" he asked, eyes darting down the page for an address.

"This one's in Decatur." Jim could feel Bones looking up at him, eyes dark and confused. "This one’s in Oakhurst."

A long silent pause passed before Bones spoke again, and when he did, his voice was low and rough. "Jim, those are in Georgia."

"Yeah, they are."

Bones tilted his head, his eyes huge and dark and overly bright and Jim _knew_ he'd made the right decision. "You'd do that?"

"In a heartbeat, if its what you wanted," Jim answered, sliding closer to him. His fingers traced Bones' jaw, turning his chin until they were looking straight at each other. "I can live anywhere, you know that. Home isn't a place, Bones. Home is the people you love. To me, home is _you_. So why not get you where you belong, near your girl."

Bones looked like he was having trouble speaking. He kept looking down, staring at one of the houses. "Twenty-two hundred square feet," he mumbled to himself.

Jim glanced over and knew immediately which house Bones was talking about. Two-story ranch in Decatur. Three bedrooms, two baths. Three-quarters of an acre, brick on four sides, swimming pool. Right around the corner from Emory University, with its medical school. It caught Jim's eye, too.

"We don't need that much room," Bones said softly, clearly mesmerized by the idea.

"It's got a pool," Jim leaned over and kissed his temple. "Jo can bring her friends over to swim." Two-car garage and a finished basement. Jim wondered when he became the kind of man who wanted that.

Bones started laughing. "She could, couldn't she..." Turning toward Jim, he reached for his face. "I love you, you know that."

And that was the best Christmas present Jim could have received. "I know," Jim told him, unable to keep the smile away. "I love you, too." It would be hard, starting over again somewhere new, but he'd done it before. He wouldn't be alone, either. Wouldn't see Sam and his family as much, but Jim could still fly into Sacramento and spend time with them, or invite them to his new home.

 _Their_ new home. It felt _right_ , the more that Jim thought about it. Pike had taken Bones from his home, asked Bones to follow him. All Jim wanted was to take Bones back where he belonged, knowing they'd both be happy.

It had been a miracle that they ever found each other, two random bodies, such different people - each orbiting their own paths in this great big world. But now as Bones pulled Jim close to him, kissed him and held him tight, the papers dropped to their laps, momentarily forgotten, and they were simply two men in love.

Something - fate, destiny, chance - brought them together, and there was no way Jim was ever letting go.

 

10.25.2011

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Such White, So Christmas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080672) by [sullacat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sullacat/pseuds/sullacat)




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